He's A What?
by Sin of the Fallen
Summary: Lily made a mistake in the sacrifice spell, and instead of Love protecting Harry, she sends Harry to the most dangerous being in several dimensions. The Neverarine at the height of her glory of course! How will Ha'ri turn out, after being raised by her?
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: This was inspired by Magic of a Different Sort, and the various other glorious HP&ES crossovers. However, whether or not to continue it is up to you people. Leave a review and I'll know whether or not to shelve it!

Chapter One: Chance

EDITED: Just a little bit of cleaning here...

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><p>Lily flinched in fear and heartbreak as she heard the dark bastard himself, Voldemort, shout "Avada Kedavra!" A loud thump was heard in the resulting silence, and Lily clutched little Harry to herself with a sob. She knew the love of her life had not survived. Her baby boy let out a happy gurgle, ironically at his father's death, and she managed to scrape together a smile for him. Harry smiled back with a happy laugh. Lily gave another second to her most precious treasure, feeling the fear that Harry might not make it through this god forsaken night.<p>

Yet, not all hope was lost. There was a way to ensure her son would survive, but she was reluctant to pay such a high price without assurance Voldemort would not survive.

Dumbledore had told her that there was an extremely ancient and obscure charm pureblood mothers had used to protect their children from rival or feuding families. It had fallen out of use since the early portion of the Dark Ages, and even James had never heard of it until Dumbledore had revealed it to them. And there was a reason such a spell, a spell that ensured the child would survive, fell out of favor. The catch was it was a suicidal spell; it would take the castor's life as fuel for the spell, and use the rest to grant a lingering protection that would last for the rest of the child's life.

And though Lily had no desire to die so young, Lily knew the charm and it was the only thing that might protect Harry from Voldemort's determination to see the prophecy thwarted.

Anguished that Harry might die because of that moronic, goggle-eyed Trelawney woman, Lily started to cry. She didn't _want_ to die! She wanted to see Harry grow up, grow old with James, invent new Charms, and see if her former best friend truly was long gone. Severus was a loose end she had refrained from ever seeing to, and now with a her death hovering so near she wished she had acted like a Gryffindor and seen to it.

"I wish Severus and I had at least talked about everything after Fifth Year. He was my best friend for Merlin's sakes! I wish we had taken the chance then to see if we could still be friends, but I was so _angry_ and _betrayed_..." She nuzzled Harry's feathery black hair, rushing into the nursery and setting her child in his crib. Lily, trying to do what she could to see to her regrets, cast the required charms on Harry's lion plush toy to record her last words to her estranged friend. She could hear Voldemort moving below, so she made it quick.

"I'm sorry Severus Snape, sorry for never talking with you after Fifth Year. Sorry for never trying to see if we could ever be friends again." She smiled at Harry, fresh tears running down her face. "I forgive you Severus for calling me that name, though it hurt. Try not to go down any roads you may regret, but if you do you can always find your way back. Be well, live your life, and find some happiness Severus. I'll see you again, hopefully after a very long time. Your friend always, Lily."

It would only activate for its intended recipient, a clever little spell her old professor had taught her. She knew Dumbledore would find it, and could figure out what the spell was and who it was for. Dumbledore would be kind enough to ensure Severus would receive it, for she knew Dumbledore never passed up the chance to come across as a benevolent man. After taking care of that last niggling regret, Lily began to recite the words for her death from memory.

"Servo. Contego. Declino. Vita parco per mei. Permissum-" Voldemort stormed into Harry's nursery, wand drawn and murder in his eyes. Chance took hold and Lily rushed through the spell in a hurry, accidentally replacing a crucial word. "-_Azura_ incubo quod tutela vos, meus parvulus!" The silent wave of power rocked the room, and Lily could feel her magic draining away to fuel her spell. It would take some time to give the spell the fuel it needed, so Lily knew she needed to try and stall for time.

Impatiently, Voldemort waited to see if the incantation had a visible effect. As far as he could sense, it did not. Eyes burning in triumph, he hissed he saw no need to kill Lily as well. He would spare her life, if she complied with his one request; hand over Harry. He tried to persuade her to give him the child, attempting threats, bribery, and manipulation. Lily refused his offer of clemency thrice.

Infuriated by her refusals, Voldemort snapped out the Killing Curse as swiftly as he doled out Crucios. His spell killed Lily instantly, but it was too late. Lily had her pyrric victory.

Magic exploded around the trio, potent and heavy enough to manifest to even mundane eyes. The magic swirled in a frenzy, forming a vortex with a oval of pure darkness at its center. From the darkness came a heavily armored figure, armed to the teeth, and with a frown on her lips. She wore no helmet, showcasing slate gray skin that shone with a blue sheen, blood-red eyes, and snowy hair. Lily Potter nee Evans had summoned the protection of Azura, Daedric Prince of Twilight. Her Prince had heard her call and honored her sacrifice by sending her most capable defender, the Nerevarine.

Unfortunately for Voldemort, he was not powerful enough to escape Lily's vengeance. The spell had just awoken the Nerevarine from an extremely pleasant dream, where she had been relaxing on an idyllic beach on a deserted isle where no Houses or Blades could find her. And the Nerevarine did not take kindly to being awoken by anyone.

Just a few minutes ago, The Prince of Twilight had roused Nerevar. Azura then told her that she was needed to take care of an extremely important mission for her Prince, and a great reward would be bequeathed if she complied. Her mission was to retrieve a child from wherever Azura sent her, kill whoever tried to stop her, and ensure that the child came to no harm. What she was supposed to do with the child after fetching it, Azura had assured her she would tell her later.

Nerevar, as she had named herself after waking with no name, saw a mage holding a stick at a dead female Imperial or Breton. A child was wailing loudly, terrified cries coming from its crib. She concluded that the mage would try to stop her and the child was in danger. Nerevar knew what she was supposed to do.

Without a word, Nerevar gave the mage no chance to speak, quickly drawing her Daedric Dai-Katane from her back. With a powerful sideways slash she cleaved the mage in two, blood drenching the carpet in the room. Nerevar made to move to the crib, but then she heard the mage trying to say something. The mage was gurgling in his own blood, still somehow alive. A Necromancer? Well, she knew how to solve that.

She fired off an intensely powerful Destruction spell, burning the mage so fiercely it burned away even his bones. The fire ignited the dry bits of carpet, but Nerevar ignored it to move to the crib. She looked down at the child, and picked him up. The baby giggled as he pointed at the remains of the stick wielding mage, something Nerevar deeply approved of.

"A born adventurer huh? Only one of us would react like that to a near death situation. What's your name youngling?" The baby gurgled something Nerevar discerned as his name. "Ha'ri!"

"Ha'ri is your name? Sounds a bit like the name ole Sugar Lips would name her kits!" The baby giggled again.

Nerevar paid no more attention to the room and walked back into the darkness, arriving in her Telvanni Tower. She awkwardly cradled Ha'ri, unsure of how to hold him. She had never seen a toddler, let alone touched a baby. Thankfully Azura manifested in her Tower. Soon she would never see the child again.

Her Prince smiled at her, a sign she had done well. Nerevar was pleased, knowing that a happy Azura meant excellent rewards.

"Nerevar, you have completed my quest admirably. To reward you, I give you your very own child. The child you save shall now be yours, just as if you had given birth to him yourself."

Nerevar proceeded to gawk at the Daedric Prince of Twilight

"What?! I have no idea how to raise a child! I've never even seen a child before today! I don't even want one!"

Azura had nothing more to say and vanished back to whence she came from. Nerevar then cursed so profanely, Vivec would have been washing her tongue with raw steel wool if he had heard it. The giggling baby in her arms drew her attention back to him. The formerly Imperial or Breton child was now a Dunmer babe with white hair and red eyes. He even looked like Nerevar with his sharp features that promised an exotic look in the future. His looks also promised many, many stalkers.

"Well Divayth raised four kids, so he must know something about being a parent…" Ha'ri gurgled with an agreeing sound. "And luckily for us Divayth Fyr owes me a favor. It's time to pay my dear friend a visit Ha'ri."

Quickly she wrapped and covered the babe in a spare bolt of cloth, for protection aganist the ferocious winds, and ran out of her tower at break neck speeds. She did not stop, using spells to hurry along the trip. She did not know when the child had last been fed and the whimpers he made worried her. She crossed the ashlands and ocean in remarkable swiftness, arriving at Tel Fyr. Nerevar did not pause to knock, letting herself in, and levitated to where Divayth always was.

She did not allow Divayth to say a word before she asked "How do you raise a baby?"

Divayth proceeded to choke and only managed to spit out "_What_?"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: The Death of Him

Author's Note: The ball is rolling right now since this tickles my funny bone. And I got my first critique ever! Awesome! Though GenoBeast really should have stuck around…I've already got an ironic twist! And my FIRST OMAKE!

EDIT: Cleaning in progress. Also any canonical errors on my part, either ignore them or just go with the AU premise.

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><p>Divayth Fyr had lived four thousand years in counting. When you had lived for four millennia, life tends to get very boring very quickly. He had seen a great deal, and had accomplished even more in his long life. So he had been quite positive that life had little left in store for him.<p>

He had created four beautiful daughters, even if they called themselves his wives disturbingly enough. Vivec (the rotten bastard), Sotha Sil, and Almalexia had not as much as waved hello to him in hundreds of years. The Telvanni were finally getting the idea that he was not going to get involved with their latest schemes. Vvardenfell had been quite peaceful, for a continent full of bloodthirsty beasts and people. Life had been nice and quiet, if a bit boring.

And then Nerevar had shown up one day.

The Dunmeri woman could and would drive a saint to the Daedra screaming "Kill her!" She was the Nerevarine Incarnate, an unimaginably powerful woman who held more power in her pinky than most magi would ever dream of achieving. She was probably the most powerful mortal in Tamriel to have walked the land in thousands of years, and would be a fierce contender for the most powerful mortal ever.

Nerevar was stupidly powerful in other ways as well, even without her personal power and might.

She held the Telvanni in a velvet gloved, ebony fist. She was Guildmaster to any guild that had foolishly recruited her. She was the Hortator, and basically led Vvardenfell whenever she deigned to. The only ones that could be said to have had escaped her ever growing influence were the Houses Redoran and Hlaalu. They did not let Telvanni into their ranks, and the Telvanni were not the sharing type. But even then, Nerevar still could make them do whatever she wanted. And all of it came about because the woman simply had far too much time on her hands. She had quietly taken over every organization she came into frequent contact with before anyone figured out just what was happening.

When he stopped to think about it, Nerevar terrified him; he did not like to think about it too often. Divayth Fyr also knew the woman was for some reason fond of him, something he did not mind since he felt it granted him some sort of immunity to Nerevar. Well that, and the Nerevar was a very beautiful specimen of the Dunmeri race. Nerevar was much like a force of the Daedra and Aedra, you could pray she never paid you much heed… but in the end she was as likely to help you as she was to kill you.

But back to the issue at hand.

It was hard to ruffle someone's feathers when they have literally done and seen just about everything. In four thousand years, Divayth had gotten used to unthinkable things happening, such as the Tribunal losing Sunder on Red Mountain. However Nerevar just was someone you could not prepare for. Ever.

Divayth looked at the, admittedly crazed, woman before him, with a babe in her arms. With her sudden question, all of his wisdom, knowledge, and cunning deserted him, leaving him only to stupidly utter "_What_?"

He forced himself to regain his composure when he saw the child looked so much like the exotic Incarnate before him. So this was her child. Divayth wondered who the lucky son of a guar was. The woman was cradling her son so awkwardly in her armored arms, Divayth soon felt compelled to rescue the uncomfortable child from the disgruntled woman. Nerevar was not a pleasant person to wake up, so the arrival of the child must have woken her since she looked so discomforted.

Nerevar let him take her child without resistance. Hoisting the little bundle of absolute adorableness (if Nerevar had looked anything like this as a child she would have been smothered with affection from birth), Divayth asked her the question that had been on the tip of his tongue.

"Is he yours Nerevar?"

He watched her intently as she rubbed the back of her neck with a hand that trailed nervous sparks, a sign that a mage was feeling quite emotionally charged. He feared for his precious books, because Nerevar had caused accidental fires before with those sparks.

"Well, kind of. He is mine I guess… in a rather roundabout way."Divayth started rocking the now cooing babe, raising a black eyebrow as he eyed the nervous Incarnate.

"Well, it's all Azura's fault! She foisted him off onto me!" Divayth looked at her incredulously. Faintly, he wondered if the Incarnate had ever known a remotely normal day and if he would ever know one again.

"Why don't you start at the beginning Nerevar? Or do I need to go fetch Vivec to narrate again?"

"Oh shut up Divayth, I can tell the story on my own. Excuse me for not knowing beforehand that you and Vivec share an enmity as deep as the seas!" Divayth resisted the urge to light something on fire at _that jackass'_ name. After _that_... No. He refused to even think about it.

"Now where was I? Oh yes, it's all Azura's doing.

She woke me up from a fantastic dream to say that she had an urgently important mission for me. She asked if I would accept it or not, but added that if I accepted I would get something _really_ nice from her. Since I had nothing better to do, and there was no way I'd be able to go back to sleep, I accepted. Then she created a portal that appeared smack dab in the middle of my bedroom. So I put my equipment and walk into the portal."

Divayth snorted as he automatically rocked the babe. Only Nerevar had the courage, or the insanity, required to jump into a Gate created by a Daedric Prince to who knew where.

"When I exited the portal, I saw a mage holding a stick-" Divayth interrupted in astonishment. "Are you sure the mage was holding a stick? Not an arrow, or a staff?"

Nerevar frowned at him, and shook her head negatively.

"What the hell else could it be? It sure as hell wasn't an arrow, and was too stick-like to be a staff. Now quit interrupting!

Where was I? Oh yes. He was holding the stick at either a dead Imperial or a dead Breton, didn't care to check her race to be honest, and Ha'ri was screaming his heart out. Pretty sure that was either his nursemaid or his mother on the floor, now that I think about it."

Well that was one question answered. The babe's name was Ha'ri.

"So like the good, obedient-" Divayth stifled a laugh at the thought of Nerevar being 'obedient'. "- Nerevarine I am, I cleaved him in two at the torso with my favorite weapon." She patted her Dai-Katana with Wraithguard fondly.

"But the mage must have been playing with necromancy or something. After I had chopped him in two, he somehow kept trying to curse me. And I had made sure to sever his spinal cord, and bisect several other important organs. So in accordance with my orders, I cast my Boneburner spell to get rid of the Necromancer. There was nothing left of him, except some ashes. I may or may not have set the room on fire as well, I wasn't really paying attention."

Divayth sighed in pity for the stupid mage. The Boneburner spell was a powerfully intense flamethrower, and was nearly hot enough to turn rocks into molten lava. The only reason Nerevar kept using it though was that the spell was designed to burn flesh. It left her loot and treasure untouched, if a little sooty. He wasn't surprised to hear that Nerevar had once more ceased to pay attention to her surroundings when there was nothing to loot. She rarely paid attention to rooms, and never bothered to decorate her own Tower. Then it occured to him.

"Will Nirn collapse in on itself with two Nerevars running around?"

Nerevar grinned at him, showing too many teeth that looked far too sharp. "Never! I need to conq-ahem-explore all the other lands. Now…what do you feed babies?"

Divayth let out a long suffering sigh; Nerevar was going to kill him by accident one day, he just knew it.

"You see, babies are fed with a mother's milk…"

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><p>Omake<p>

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><p>Back on Earth, British wizards and witches were shivering in fear. They feared that Death Eaters would come bursting into their houses to kill them at any moment, despite the fact it was quite unlikely and a statistical improbability. In Wizarding Britain there were thousands of wizards and witches, while only maybe a hundred or so out of the population were Death Eaters.<p>

No one had ever said that common sense was very prevalent in the magical community…

Either way, there _were_ some wizards with enough backbone to come out of their heavily fortified houses. Namely, Albus Dumbledore and his Order of the Phoenix. Word had come to them on swift wings that the Dark Lord, Voldemort himself, had attacked the Potters in Godric's Hollow. Naturally, Dumbledore and his most trusted and senior Order members were the ones to race to the Potters' residence. Dumbledore was nearly beside himself in worry, for if Voldemort had attacked the Potters it was possible that one of the children of the Prophecy had been murdered. However, none could tell that his worry was for his plans and not for the Potters

When the small squad of wizards, plus witch, arrived they found the former residence of the Potters a burnt husk of its original self. Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, and Alastor Moody explored the house, trying to piece together what had happened earlier that night. There was little evidence to be found after the flames, and even magic could restore only so much.

Minerva burst into tears when they found the body of James Potter at the front of the stairwell. It was heavily burned, looking more like a relic from Pompeii than something that they had talked to only days ago. She refused to go upstairs, wishing to try to add a little dignity to James' corpse. She hoped that she could at least preserve whatever was left for the funeral that needed to be arranged.

Alastor and Dumbledore made their way upstairs, carefully navigating the now fragile stairwell with magic, and picked the safest path to the nursery.

Alastor went in first and was the first to see the defiled room. There was a pile of purest white ashes in a humanoid pattern, along with Lily Potter's body. She too had not been spared from the flames, and the only reason they could tell the Potters' bodies apart was that Lily had been noticeably shorter than James. If anything, Lily's body was even more savaged than James'. Most of her flesh had been burned away, leaving only a thin, cracked, black skein of tissue to cover her bones.

Yet, there was no sign of Harry Potter. It baffled the both of them, especially how it seemed that the flames had not ravaged whatever the white ashes were. They cast spell after spell, only to discover the humanoid ash pile was a _Voldemort_ ash pile. It brought a single moment of joy to know that Voldemort had been brought down.

Then Dumbledore discovered something.

Alastor Moody had nearly choked when Dumbledore started rooting around in the ashes of the insane, and now quite dead, wizard and pulled something from the ashes. He was certain his old cohort had lost it for good this time. The thing Dumbledore had pulled from the ashes looked remarkably like a plush toy, a lion plush to be specific. Alastor Moody asked with a tone that suggested he had seen far, far too much about the former Dark Lord for his liking

"Albus... Did Voldemort go into battle with a plush toy?" Albus Dumbledore was stumped, not knowing what to say. He honestly had no idea for once in a long time. He looked at his long time friend. Without another word, they both silently agreed to never mention this again. For the greater good of everyone's sanity of course.

Little did they know, that as Lily Potter finished her little recording spell, she had dropped the plush when Voldemort had entered the nursery. The Dark Lord had trod on the plush without noticing a thing; he had been more intent on ridding the world of a threat to his immortality. When the Nerevarine cast the Boneburner spell on Voldemort, it had partially incinerated the plush as well.

Yet since Voldemort had been standing on the plush, he had prevented it's complete incineration, thus forever ruining his image. The unnamed lion plush had gained it's revenge from the careless wizard. In the two disturbed wizards' minds, they fancied they could almost hear the triumphant roar of a lion off in the distance as they pondered on the evidence that Voldemort had carried a lion plush into battle.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: All In A Name

EDIT: Whistle while you clean~

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><p>Before you can walk, you must crawl. Before Hogwarts, you must first survive the Nerevarine. –By the author<p>

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><p>Nerevar fought to keep from throwing up her ash yam and Daedra heart soup as Divayth explained how a mother fed her child the traditional way. In utter terror, she asked him the question she really did not want to know the answer to.<p>

"Do I have to-_hurk_- breast feed Ha'ri?"

Divayth blinked a little in surprise, before replying to her in his most soothing voice. "No. Since you're his adopted mother you can get a wet-nurse, or see if he's ready to switch over to mushy foods instead of breast milk."

Nerevar smiled hugely in relief, then a foul smell started to permeate the air from Divayth and little Ha'ri. She pinched her sensitive nose shut and scowled at the man. "What in the Oblivion is that Divayth? Something didn't agree with you?"

Divayth grimaced. "Looks like it's time for you to learn how to change a nappy Nerevar." A loud wailing arose from the previously sleeping baby, the child obvously displeased with something.

Nerevar asked in complete naivety, "What is a nappy?"

Divayth proceed to explain. He looked far too vicious to have any sympathy for the now horrified Incarnate. Nerevar proceeded to tremble in horrified fear.

Where was a cataclysmic, world shaking crisis when you needed one? Like Mehrunes Dagon finding out that she was the one who had peppered the genital area of his statue with chitin shuriken in the shape of a smiling face? Then she could go into hiding, while leaving Divayth to take care of the things like 'changing soiled nappies'.

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><p>Nerevar shuddered as she frantically scrubbed her hands with the strongest cleanser that Divayth possessed.<p>

It had been horrible, and she knew that she would never be able to look at the color brown the same way again. She resolved to hire a nanny at the first chance she got, or she was going to move in with Divayth and make him change Ha'ri's nappies from now one.

She turned as she saw Divayth approach, with a clean Ha'ri in his arms, out of the corner of her eye. The bastard had the gall to smirk at her.

"At least you didn't get quadruplets." Nerevar winced as she took Ha'ri from Divayth's arms. The horror he must have faced nearly garnered her sympathy, but she still was going to foist nappy chaning duties off on 'ri, the adorably horrid babe, opened his eyes to reveal startlingly red oculars and cooed at his new mother. Right now, in his babyish thoughts, he concluded this blue-grey person was funny!

Nerevar valiantly fought the urge to melt into an undignified puddle of Dunmeri goo at the sight. She failed to resist the cute baby that looked so similar to the figure she saw in mirrors and reflective surfaces.

"Vivec is going to have a heart attack when he sees my cute kid. I can't wait till I can show Ha'ri the family trade of 'Dunmer Surprise Attack' with Vivec as the victim."

Divayth grimaced at Vivec's name, but returned to smirking at the thought of the Poet having a heart attack and playing Nerevar's damned 'game'.

The 'game' was something Nerevar had invented herself. She said it was an exercise to improve her sneaking and stealth, and the opposite party's awareness. Her victims said she simply wished to scare the Oblivion out of the. It went like this. She would sneak and skulk around in the shadows until her mark was alone, preferably in a darkened room or alley, and then tackle them while screaming bloodcurdling war-cries such as 'For Sithis!'

Divayth also knew she had improved her electrical Destruction magic due to her 'game,' since she frequently had had to literally restart some of her marks' hearts. He had even been _graced_ with participation in the 'game' when he had been standing at the levitation hole to go down to ground floor. Nerevar had screamed "For the NIGHT MOTHER!" as she tackled him into the hole, _with no levitation spells in effect_, and used him as a landing pad.

He had tried to kill her, might have succeeded too, if she hadn't broken so many of his bones. He still paranoidly double checked the shadows before levitating himself down.

Nerevar turned to the reclusive hermit crab that passed itself off as a wizard.

"Want to come and watch Vivec's face when I tell him I've got a kid?"

Divayth shrugged. He had nothing better to do, and so he wrapped an arm around Nerevar as she used the MazedBand. They left the tower in a flash of light and magicka.

After arriving in Vivec and exiting the temple, Divayth and Nerevar levitated themselves to the island Vivec resided on. They climbed the many stairs, bypassed annoying Ordinators who demanded they leave their God be, and Nerevar casually picked the lock, and they entered Vivec's chambers. Divayth then hid deep within the shadows to watch the scene unfolding before his eyes with unholy glee.

"Oh Vivec?" Nerevar called out in a singsong to the unwary half Chimer half Dunmer.

"Nerevar? Is that you? What have I told you about breaking into-" As Nerevar stepped into his line of sight, Vivec gaped as he looked between Mother and child.

"Vivec meet Ha'ri, my son! He's going to be my little protégé, and I'm going to teach him everything I know! Including my favorite game!"

Vivec said nothing for a long time before he seemed to convulse, as if he was experiencing a stroke, before he finally gave in. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as he fainted.

Divayth almost wet himself, he was laughing at Vivec so hard. He laughed even harder as Nerevar started her 'shock therapy'. Divayth prayed to the Aedra and Daedra, almost hysterical with laughter, that Vivec would be made the child's godfather so he could watch this all the time.

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><p>After Divayth managed to get himself back under control, and Vivec came out of his horror induced coma, the quartet made their way to the Temple of the Nine to get the child blessed and have a birth certificate drawn up.<p>

Divayth quietly chuckled to himself, along with Nerevar and Vivec, as he watched the natives' reactions to having their only surviving God walking about with two other figures of legend. Though Nerevar had yet to get around to finishing off Dagoth Ur...

He laughed outright at the expressions of the laymen and missionaries as they watched the pagan God come strolling into their holy sanctuary. One of the younger initiates fainted when Vivec (being the diplomatic maniac he was) politely asked if her day had been well and could they please have the birth blessing done?

With a shaking hand and a quavering voice the elder missionary quickly blessed the adorable Dunmer babe and pronounced the two men his godfathers. Once the old Imperial was done he bustled to the back and hurried back to them with some documents. After about fifteen minutes of signing the adoption forms, the birth certificate, and a form that stated he had been blessed by the Nine, Ha'ri had been officially recognized as the adopted son of the Nerevarine Incarnate.

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><p>Far away, back on Earth, magic stirred and made some adjustments.<p>

In the Ministry of Magic resided a book that kept all the records of wizards born in Britain. Harry Potter's name quivered and glowed as the book's inherent magical nature saw there was no more _Harry Potter_ but** Ha'ri Diabolus**.

Vivec had thought it funny to name the kid after his mother.

In the Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry there was another book, one that kept the name of all students that had been registered by their parents at birth, or Muggleborns who would be found eventually. The elegantly scripted name _Harry Potter_ erased itself, and in bold gothic print it was rewritten to say **Ha'ri Diabolus**.

Harry Potter the Boy Who Lived, which was the title given to him despite his disappearance, was gone and he was not returning. Ha'ri Diabolus was here and there would be nothing to stand in his way, for his mother would incinerate it before it could even give him a strange glance.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: Mishaps Happen

A/N: I needed a pick me up after Reminiscence. Gods but the canon is so EMO and though I try I still must write _emo_. Urg I am made for humor, not for all that sadness! Though I was not supposed to touch this for awhile I needed an extra amount of humor because the emo makes me cry and run off to eat buttercream icing…

Nerevar: Are you going to tell them about that idea you had for this story regarding me, Vivec, and Divayth?

Sin: Nerevar-chan they're smart readers, I'm sure they'll guess it.

Nerevar: But I wanna tell them!

Sin: Do you doubt our readers?

Nerevar:..No….

Sin: Then let them use THEIR gray matter and not yours!

EDIT: Looking so much cleaner~!

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><p>Nerevar smiled as she watched her son run through her Tower.<p>

Ha'ri was much smarter than any other two year old (Divayth assured her of this), and his magical skills proved it. She was guessed it was eating all those alchemy ingredients that she was quite certain a toddler should not ingest.

The scorch mark on the wall from his first fireball still had not been cleaned off yet, since it was a memento of Ha'ri's first Destruction spell. She smiled as she saw him reach up and demanded with a "Momma!" Nerevar picked him up and cuddled the giggling child, much to his delight. She was just glad he was now 'potty trained' as Divayth called it.

Life was much easier now, if more singed and frostbitten and electrifying while Ha'ri learned magic. A stray lightning bolt zapped the hugging duo, making their hair frizz. Ha'ri giggled and said "Momma, your hair is so funny!" She looked at his newly spiky hair and ruffled it, much to his pleasure.

"If only you could see your hair now Ha'ri, you would not say mine looks silly." Ha'ri shook his head as he giggled; prompting Nerevar to say "Let me show you how you look Ha'ri."

A screech of surprise rocketed through the Tower. "MOMMA! I LOOK LIKE A PUPPY!" Nerevar chuckled and rebutted, "No no Ha'ri. You look like a porcupine."

"MOMMA!

* * *

><p>Vivec pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation at his godson, the one he was watching for his mother. Nerevar had said she was going hunting for the perfect gifts for her son's birthday before dropping Ha'ri off. However she had not warned him just how much magic she had taught him.<p>

For the Daedra's sakes, he had not expected a three year old to be competent enough to cast an Invisibility spell! Or that Nerevar had taught her son how to play 'the game' so soon…

Vivec flinched as he heard an evil and devilish giggle. How he wished Nerevar had been kidding when she had said she would make her son her protégé. He knew now, the kid's surname suited the child _far_ too aptly. "FOR HOUSE TELVANNI!"

"Gaack!"

Vivec cursed Azura soundly for gifting Nerevar with her own child to mold in her own accursed image.

* * *

><p>Divayth placed a hand over his racing heart.<p>

Once more Nerevar had entrusted him with her Daedric spawn of a four and a half year old. As time had passed he, and Vivec, had come to realize 'godfather' was simply a sophisticated word for 'glorified babysitter'. And since Nerevar had no concept of which spells a child should know, Divayth was doomed. Utterly, completely doomed.

He flinched as he heard the snicker snacker of a Dwarven spider and the moaning of a Corpus victim intermixed with splashes of water.

Ha'ri apparently had been taught powerful Command Creature and Humanoid spells, and had commanded one of the Corpus victims in the Corpusarium to draw a bath and bathe Yagrum. A deeply horrifying prospect on many levels. Ha'ri had claimed loudly he could not look upon Yagrum's filth anymore; Divayth suspected that he, like his mother, had simply done it for the Oblivion of it.

"Hurry! He's starting to fight my influence!"

"Augggghhhh…"

Divayth could only hope Nerevar found this more amusing than something to thrash him over.

"WHAT THE OBLVION IS THAT CORPUS THING DOING NEAR MY PRIVATES?" Divayth sighed and resigned himself to his fate.

* * *

><p>Ha'ri bounced in excitement as he saw the wooden boxes that were his presents. He looked to his mother, who was watching him with proud eyes, and asked shyly,"Which one is yours Momma?"<p>

Ha'ri grinned as his mother shot smug looks to his disgruntled godfathers. Of course he would pick her first!

"The middle crate Ha'ri!"

Ha'ri made his way over to his mother's crate excitedly, thinking '_Mom always gets me the best presents!_'. Eagerly he ripped off the nailed down lid with his bare hands, sending the lid flying. That the lid went flying and nearly nailed Vivec was something Ha'ri did not notice.

"Just what the Oblivion are you doing with your kid Nerevar?" Vivec exclaimed angrily from his crouch on the floor, but no one paid him any attention. Though Divayth did snicker at him.

Ha'ri's eyes sparkled like shiny coins as he squealed in happiness at Nerevar's gifts. He pulled out shuriken and throwing darts of all kinds, an enchanted robe for his size, and Daedric daggers. He rushed and hugged his mother's, for once unarmored, waist as he jabbered with adulation.

"Best. Presents. EVER!"

Vivec grimaced as Nerevar stuck out her tongue and pulled down her eyelid at her son's godfathers. He knew his present of religious texts from the world over could not compare, but he hoped that there was still a _chance_ to halt Ha'ri's transformation into a male Nerevar. Inwardly he sneered, _At least my presents are bound to be better than that cur's._ Divayth piped up and broke Vivec from his thoughts.

"Open mine next Ha'ri! It's the one on the left!"

Ha'ri zoomed over to the crate and once again sent the lid flying towards Vivec, who yelped in fear as it sailed by his head. Ha'ri looked inside and found books; spell books to be specific.

"Runes: How to Cast Them and Why They are Fun. By Divayth Fyr."

Ha'ri nearly fainted in joy while Nerevar burst out laughing. Vivec glared hotly at Divayth, the horrible monster, and hissed "_What the Oblivion are you doing? Are you insane?_"

Divayth smirked at the distressed halfling God and said "Can't trump Nerevar? Then join Nerevar!" An explosion sounded and they automatically turned to see what the other two had done. A sooty Ha'ri and Nerevarhad wide grins on their faces with their eyebrows nothing more than singe marks.

Vivec sagged in exasperation. What had he been thinking? Who could honestly halt the inevitable coming of the male Nerevar?


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: Blasphemy?

Author's Note: OMFD! (Oh My F'ing Daedra) This is my second most popular story! And I haven't even hit Hogwarts yet! I'm not sure how many of you picked up the FFVII reference though…

Nerevar: We're just that awesome.

Sin: Indeed we are! Now go and vote in my polls! There's STORY IDEAS on there! Well there's usualy story ideas.

And for those who recognize monsters and such from other games such as Arena, they may pop up. I do not believe in limiting myself in any way after all…

EDIT:I REALLY HOPE FANFICTION WILL TAKE THIS FINAL ATTEMPT AT FIXING THIS DAMN CHAPTER OTHERWISE I WON'T TRY AGAIN.

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><p>Ha'ri trembled in sheer excitement as his mother shut the tomb's door.<p>

He was seven years old now, and after outfitting her son Nerevar had declared he was ready for his first adventure. He carried a Daedric tanto and dagger pair with a full suit of custom enchanted leather armor. Nerevar had said to him before locking the entrance.

"Your goal is to kill anything that so much as twitches, and loot and plunder anything of value."

Ha'ri let a maniac grin stretch across his face, one he had copied from one of his mother's Valkynaz friends, and broke out cackling. He was on his first ever, solo adventure! Nothing could spoil this for him! "Ahahahahahaha!"

Ha'ri leapt down the stairs, eager to make his mother proud. Some time passed, and Nerevar rose from her post by the tomb's door, to answer the insistent knocking. An unruffled Ha'ri stood before her with a death-head's grin on his face. Without words she motioned to his inventory pack and he gave it to her without protest.

Nerevar had carefully prepared this tomb as a test site for Ha'ri's first solo adventure. She had stocked it with monsters and Daedra from every corner of Vvardenfell, with treasure scattered about for collection. She found in Ha'ri's pack nearly everything she had hidden, except for one jewel she had placed inside a false bottomed torch, and the ingredients the monsters could produce. She looked at her child, who was beginning to sweat from nervousness, and began ominously

"It's not what I expected." She watched Ha'ri wilt, snickering on the inside at the sight. "It's better than I expected!" His jaw dropped open to roar in outrage, but only a strangled squeak emerged.

"That was mean Momma!" "You walked right into it Ha'ri. Now give Momma a hug before we Recall to Tel Fyr to go brag about how awesome you are to Divayth." Ha'ri grinned and rushed forwards to give his mother a hug, the top of his silvery white hair barely touching the underside of her breastplate.

She sighed inaudibly, hoping Ha'ri would eventually beat her height of five foot six. However, Nerevar got the feeling that she should not hold her breath for the hope of Ha'ri's height.

* * *

><p>Vivec watched his fidgeting godson with, poorly concealed, vindictive really could be rather vicious about revenge for a god who preached the opposite.<p>

Vivec had spent years trying to come up with some sort of way to punish the miniature Nerevar, and had finally hit upon the perfect punishment one day as he watched Ha'ri wait for his mother. The boy had the patience of a gnat with ADHD on crack, and being forced to wait was something like stabbing oneself repeatedly for Ha'ri. Nerevar had bemoaned it to both he and the uncouth Divayth one day, and Vivec had seized upon it with a ravenous hunger so at odds with his usual manner that even Nerevar had given him a worried look.

Shrugging that disquieting observation off, Vivec had explained his tort-_ahem_-method to teach Ha'ri some patience. Every time Ha'ri was caught doing something Nerevar said he could not do, Divayth's and Vivec's rules were fair game, he was to meditate for two hours straight. Should Ha'ri disobey his godfathers in Nerevar's presence, without her consent, he would be forced to meditate for three hours.

Vivec had nearly cried in joy when Nerevar had agreed to his proposition and when she had called Ha'ri in to lay down her new law, Vivec had only grinned bone chillingly at her spawn. The look on the miniature Nerevar's face had told Vivec he knew this was vengeance for all those hellish years of babysitting and playing 'Dunmer Surprise Attack'. Ha'ri fidgeted some more, and Nerevar barked at him, much to Vivec's obvious pleasure,

"Focus Ha'ri. Focus, or learn why the Morag Tong fear me so much that every time theyhear my name they run to a corner to sob in sheer terror."

Ha'ri began to sweat like a pig in nervous fear. Vivec only chuckled a little vengeful chuckle that screamed it was laughing at your misery.

* * *

><p>Ha'ri marveled at his mother's, and Divayth's but mostly his mother's, prized possessions.<p>

She had managed to round up a sizeable amount of Hulking Fabricants, and was in the process of starting a repopulating program that she claimed would spread the species to all over Nirn. The beasts were fantastical monsters, but since Sotha Sil had created them they had been in danger of out and out extinction. His mother and godfathers, actually agreeing for once, had been outraged at such a prospect.

They were one of the only remaining creations of Sotha Sil, after being modified before his death with a sort of reproductive capability by eating an excess of metals in order to create 'children' which would then consume metal until it hit the adult state, and Nerevar's favorite monster. It was not hard to guess which reason had prompted the repopulation program. Ha'ri watched a clutch begin to tremble and rock, hairline fractures appearing on the metal eggs as their mother hissed soothingly at them.

With awed eyes, Ha'ri watched the tiny replicas of their parents burst forth from the eggs. A chorus of hunger hisses, whines, clicks, clanks, and rattles greeted their mother. Ha'ri could hardly care by that point, far too enamored with the creatures. A laugh startled him.

"You are more and more like your mother every day Ha'ri."

Divayth laughed again at the happy expression on Ha'ri's face. The eight year old was already far too much like Nerevar for comfort, but what could he do? Nothing that's what, so Divayth was determined to enjoy this to the fullest extent possible.

Especially since Vivec suffered so from babysitting their godson.

* * *

><p>Divayth and Vivec watched, fascinated, as Ha'ri and Nerevar worked together to create the first Homonculus on Nirn since the careful selection, the duo had chosen various parts from various monsters and lesser Daedra such as Scamps and their ilk. They had carefully created the spell, and had written into it's structure very strong compulsions to obey it's creators. After arranging the parts in the fashion they wished the body to appear in, Nerevar and Ha'ri poured their magic into the small being's creation.<p>

With a flash of red light and fire, a living creature was created from the various parts. The Homonculus looked like a Dragon; with the slight modification that it seemed to be bipedal rather than the natural way of being a quadruped. Plus it had limbs that would function as arms, its wings were seperate from its arms and were on its 's skin was a reddish bronze, and it had searingly red irises.

It gave a miniature version of a Dragon's roar and flapped it's wings, still staying upright even while in flight. With another roar it settled on Ha'ri's shoulder, holding onto a pointed ear for support, with it's long tail wrapping around his neck. Nerevar petted it's small head with a ungloved finger, causing it to let out a imitation of a purr, and cooed at it.

"Oh my. I did not expect it to turn out to be so elegant and natural looking! You need a name sweetling… I know! I shall call you Damus!" The newly named Damus purred at it's creators, making Ha'ri giggle. His mother was so awesome for making him a pet for his birthday! Divayth looked to Vivec and whispered in a very worried manner,

"Is it me or does that thing really look like Akatosh in Dragon form?" Vivec could only whisper back "Yes. I think we should be very nice to it. Just in case. With Nerevar you can never be too sure after all…" Divayth blanched to the color of blue tinted milk.

"Quite right. Do you really think she could…?" "Yes." "Do you think she might have committed blasphemy?"

Vivec grew thoughtful. "I'm not sure, after all I am the head of a pagan religion to the worshipers of the Nine. You'd probably need to consult the head of the Order of Akatosh. Even then, I'm not sure you'd get any definite answer. After all, how many times could this occur?"

Divayth, still very pale, grunted in agreement. Really how many times could this have come up?


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six: Letter From Another World

A/N: At last. We have arrived at the moment…Hogwarts!

Nerevar: That was fast. I thought it was supposed to be next chapter?

Sin: Was bored. And I made a mistake last chapter its Camona Tong not Morag, and it was Sunder the Tribunal lost not Keening. Oh yes, VOTE!

* * *

><p>The Eagle Owl looked at the letter wrapped around its leg in confusion. The Post Owl was confused since it was not sure where to find it's letter's recipient.<p>

This Owl was a veteran post owl, having served faithfully at Hogwarts for many years. It had one of the most arduous jobs of any owl; it was the owl that was tasked with taking letters to prospective students that lived on different continents. Like every summer before the school opened, the Owl had flown into the Deputy Headmistress' office to see if any letters were for it.

It had been a couple of years since its last trip, and that had been all the way in Honduras! The Owl remembered the trip with relish; that had been its most trying trip yet. Yet despite all its years and knowledge, the Owl did not know how to find the address Tel Uvirith, Vvardenfell, Nirn.

So the Owl had sought out the great owl elders and had humbly chirruped, screeched, and hooted his question to the great elders of the exalted Post Owl Order. The elders had been puzzled as well, something that had deeply surprised the Owl. The times they did not have answers to the questions Owls posed were few, and it had not thought an address would be one of them.

With no recourse, they had counseled him to seek out the Ancient Owl. Surely the Ancient would know, for if it did not then there could not be such an address. So the Owl had flown to the highest tower's roof and sought out the Ancient's nest in the rafters. The nest was enormous, easily big enough to hold several regular sized nests, and was covered in feathers from the owls that had come before the current Ancient.

With reverence usually reserved for the Owl Gods, the Owl had softly chirruped its question to the Ancient. The molting ball of feathery fluff had puffed up in surprise before telling the younger Owl that Nirn was an alternate dimension. The last time a Post Owl had ventured to the great lands of Nirn was so long ago the Ancient had heard it told to him as a legend. With hoots weak from age, the Ancient had told the younger that it should wait for the new moon. As the Moon hid its great eye, forces from the Lands Beyond could reach out and open the way. The way would open for the Post Owl only then.

So the Owl had done as the Ancient had advised, and waited for the new moon. It had not been easy to resist the urge to fly in search of the address, but to ignore the advice of the Ancient? Preposterous!

Anxiously it looked for a sign in the sky as it flew in circles above the peaks of Hogwarts' towers. Suddenly a sense of knowing filled the Owl. The way was open! Pumping its wings with great strength, it dove downwards into a patch of air that was notair. And with a triumphant screech it vanished.

Ha'ri looked at his mother in a bored manner. She was conversing with the latest suckers that had agreed to take up the nice paying jobs she offered in her Tower. They had no way of knowing they would likely be used as testing experiments for various spells and unstable alchemical potions. But that is what will happen to them.

Though the eleven year old could appreciate the sheer brilliance of his mother's Speechcraft skills, watching as she entranced the grunts, he was eager to do something. Vivec was busy reading over some new religious texts from Skyrim and Divayth was trying to improve his Enchanting skills, leaving them unable to babysit or entertain Ha'ri.

To be honest, he was itching to cause mass chaos and havoc. It had been far too long since he and Mother had gone pillaging and plundering. However, Vivec's sick revenge had reaped at least some small rewards. His meditation over the years had instilled some sort of patience. Well, a primitive kind of patience that was as fragile as the finest pane of glass.

Idly he cast a Lightning Rune by one of the new flunky's feet, watching with a grin as the nameless flunky was thrown across the room when he triggered the magical explosion. Nerevar giggled, amused at how far the man had flown. Mother turned to him with a smile and beckoned him over. He complied hastily with glee, beaming as his mother hugged him. He was most definitely his mother's boy and quite proud of the fact.

Ha'ri smiled contentedly as he heard his mother chuckle, and looked up at her pleadingly. "Can we go on an adventure now Momma?"

Nerevar grinned "Sure! Why not? In fact-" An avian screech interrupted the mother and son duo, causing them both to draw their Daedric weapons and charge up their spells.

They were quite surprised when they saw what had screeched. An owl had flown in through a window and landed on the table, carefully avoiding the clusters of paperwork and quills. It was quite a sight since Vvardenfell had no owls. It screeched at them and stuck out a leg, which had a parchment strapped to it.

Cautiously Ha'ri approached the owl and took the parchment, quickly returning to his mother's side. "What does it say?" Ha'ri looked at the parchment, or letter rather, and read aloud.

* * *

><p>"HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY<p>

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Harry Diabolism,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress"

* * *

><p>Ha'ri looked at it incredulously and handed it to his equally incredulous mother. He voiced what they were both thinking. "What the Oblivion is this?"<p>

With those words a flash of dusky light flooded the room, turning the inside of the Tower into a twilight lit area. It was a signature from a most familiar Power; Azura. The Prince of Twilight had crossed from Oblivion into Nirn, and She never did so without having a task she wished to be completed.

"That, young one is your destiny. You are the Focus of a Prophecy in a different world. The world this valiant owl delivered your letter from."

Nerevar gave her patron Daedra a droll stare, knowing the Daedra far too well to believe this was as spontaneous as it seemed.

"Did you lose a bet or something with one of their Gods?" Azura's eyes narrowed and her mouth, normally gentle with a motherly smile, pinched into a tight frown.

"Hecate possesses a devastating poker face. And she had laid claim to Ha'ri first, and is demanding his return."

Ha'ri gapped at the Daedra, but Nerevar nodded.

"I thought so. You don't like sharing what you've claimed as yours, and I know my Prince truly hates to rescind Her gifts." Azura chuckled darkly, but did not deny what Nerevar said.

Sensing there was potential for unprecedented plunder opportunities to be had in this new world, Ha'ri quickly looked on the bright side. He had been pretty bored after all, and Nerevar had finished her own Prophecy a few years ago. Vvardenfell had been getting a bit dull without a Prophecy to add some spice to life. But there were important details to straighten out first!

"How are we supposed to get there?"

Nerevar broke in "I want a permanent portal in my Tower to this world that only I, Ha'ri, Divayth, and Vivec can use." Azura waved Her hand, and created the desired portal dead center in the room. The portal was an ovoid arch in shape, remarkable likely a door, and seemingly made of white bone. It was designed with a graceful touch, decorated with the Daedric language in calligraphy, though wicked spiked and spurs sprouted occasionally. Within the bone arch the spiraling vortex of the portal glowed a purplish blue, magicka emanating from it like a perfume.

"You'll need to know the spoken language, only the written is Imperial." Azura stated before waving her hand, and Nerevar and Ha'ri suddenly had a new language in their heads. A minor headache sprung from nowhere as their minds tried to fit the new language into long term memory.

Wincing from the pain, Nerevar nodded ascent along with Ha'ri. "Will they take my money?"

Nerevar nodded to her Incarnate. "Their bankers will adore you, as long as you refrain from stealing from them. They take an exceedingly dim view of thieves, and pride themselves on their security measures." Nerevar shrugged along with Ha'ri. Dim view or not, little would be able to stop them if she decided these bankers had something she wanted.

"Can you set me up with a job there, so I can keep an eye on Ha'ri and ensure he survives his Prophecy?" Her Prince smiled at her, motherly pride wreathing her face.

"I was hoping you would ask that Nerevar. I can get jobs for both you and Ha'ri's godfathers at the school Ha'ri will be going to. And to forestall your question, the school is crucial to the Prophecy and Ha'ri must go."

Nerevar smiled at her patron Daedra while Ha'ri grinned excitedly. "Excellent. Shall we get going Ha'ri?" He nodded quickly, and zipped around the entire tower collecting everything they owned while his mother talked with her patron.

"So you'll talk to Vivec and Divayth right?" "Of course. But there will be slight alterations; Ha'ri's eyes will revert to their original green color to identify him as the so called 'Chosen One'."

"Not a permanent alteration?" "No." "Excellent. I was worried there for a moment."

With swift feet, Ha'ri skidded to a halt panting but fully equipped. Nerevar arched an eyebrow.

"Ready to go?" "Yep. Got all the weapons and everything."

"Only the Daedric and throwing ones right?" "You taught me well Momma."

"Good. Will you tell us the Prophecy now Azura?" To their shock The Prince snorted in distain.

"I refuse to recite that ridiculous thing. Suffice to say, it's a vague piece of junk.

To be concise, Ha'ri wields a power his original parent's murderer does not. It may also be that he has some ability his enemy cannot understand or use. What this power or ability is not mentioned." Azura's frown, which had reappeared with her speck, grew deeper.

"If you look at the Prophecy closely, it claims the two are invulnerable and immortal unless the other manages to land the killing blow. They cannot be killed otherwise supposedly.

There is a part claiming that 'Neither can live while the other survives.' Again, it is open to interpretation. I would venture it means their enemy would muck up their lives until they were dead. They both have reasons to hate one another and seek out vengeance, so it does make a certain kind of sense."

Azura scoffed. "Hecate loves being overly mysterious."

With that, Ha'ri shrugged nonchalantly along with his mother. They both could be classified as mass murderers and killing another would be no skin off their noses. Clad in form fitting leather armor for Ha'ri, and Glass armor for Nerevar, they started to strap on their weapons.

Ha'ri equipped two Daedric tanto, since he greatly preferred to fight with dual weapons. Nerevar took a Daedric Dai-Katana along with various throwing weapons. She would have taken a bow along with the shuriken, instead of the darts, but she had yet to acquire a Daedric bow yet. Her strength had made Daedric quality weaponry a necessity rather than a preference when she wished to use the weapon more than once. Otherwise she shattered her weapon so badly it was almost beyond even her skill to repair it.

Once the heavily armored duo was satisfied they waved goodbye to Azura and entered the portal.

And off they went to Earth and Diagon Alley.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven: Diagonal Diagon Alley

A/N: This is far ahead of schedule 'cause I am excited!

EDIT: This is starting to look pretty nice…

* * *

><p>Nerevar became aware, once the fires of Azura's portal disappeared, she was in a pub with her son.<p>

A filthy pub to be precise. One that would have never have lasted long in any Province on any continent on Nirn. Nerevar was certain some of the dirt had even progressed and evolved into simple life. Divayth would be fascinated.

The next thing she noticed was how everyone seemed to be Imperial, Breton, or Redguard. And all of them were staring as if they had never seen a Dunmer before in their lives. Quickly she stole a look at her son, since he had developed some peculiar quirks regarding staring and crowds growing up. The last time someone had stared at him Ha'ri had tried to lop off his head, claiming the unfortunate Bosmer had been implying he was a slave. And he was twitching in a manner that said he was only a hair away from unsheathing his weapons.

Smoothly she turned to the barkeep, and stealthily rubbed her Ring as she turned on the charm. "Hello. I am looking for Diagon Alley. Can you give us directions?"

* * *

><p>Tom, owner of the Leaky Caldron, had been having quite the busy day.<p>

Hogwart's first term was fast approaching, and every single parent came through his pub with their children. Needless to say, his purse was heavy with coin today. However, what was not usual was when an oval disc of blue flames appeared near the bar. Even for the Wizarding World this was a bit odd to witness.

Out had stepped a creature he had never seen before, yet he was reminded vaguely of the Veela as he examined the being before him. She was armored as if she was preparing to meet an army of old, clad in matte black armor with green crystals shooting up from it. The most visually striking things about her were her grey-blue skin, elfin ears, silver hair, and blood red eyes.

Behind her he could see a small figure, likely her child. Was she here because of Hogwarts?

He gulped as she walked over and suddenly he felt as though this was someone he would do _anything and everything for_ as the glorious female walked closer to him. "Hello. I am looking for Diagon Alley. Can you give me directions?"

Flustered and prideful, Tom said "I can do better than that my lady! I can show you where Diagon Alley is. Follow me please!" He stepped out from behind his counter and made his way to the back, easily hearing her armored footfalls as the child's voice, lower than expected and refined with a slight accent, intruded.

"Momma, why did everyone act as if they had never seen a Dunmer before?" "Perhaps they haven't Ha'ri. We are elsewhere after all and we cannot simply assume that Dunmer are here as well."

Tom felt as if his heart stopped as they stood before Diagon's brick wall, whipping around to look at the boy. The child looked eerily similar to his mother with two startling differences. He possessed Avada Kedavra green eyes (1) and a peculiar lightning bolt shaped scar. Only one child would be at this age, male, and coming to Diagon Alley with such identifying eyes.

"Merlin's fluffy underpants! You're Harry Potter!" Though Tom was sure Harry was supposed to be human…

The woman frowned at him, and Tom felt his heart come close to seizing in terror. "That is not my son's name. His name is Ha'ri Diabolus, not this…_Harry Potter."_

At the woman's tone of voice Tom dropped the subject like a hot rock and quickly tapped the way open.

"Hmmm… Impressive I guess. What do you think Ha'ri?" "Uncle Divayth would tear it apart to figure it out?"

"Excellent guess Ha'ri. I agree completely!"

Tom could practically hear the 'Dunmer' lad's pride increase at his mother's praise.

* * *

><p>The first stop they made was to the local magical bookstore, Flourish and Blotts. They both ended up easily blowing six thousand septims on the texts, something that made the shopkeeper shriek then faint in delight. Nerevar had had to pack up her own books, before heading off to ' Madam Malkins' ' as it was called.<p>

It had been a most amusing stop.

The mage had not even blinked before using a Telekinesis Spell on her measuring tapes while her assistant worked on a young Breton child. The Breton child was a startlingly monotonic child with white skin, platinum blonde hair, and gray eyes. With true Nerevar raised humor, Ha'ri had asked with saintly innocence,

"Where did you get your helmet?"

The monotone child had blinked at the waiting Ha'ri before drawling "My name is Draco Malfoy. But you may call me Draco. And what helmet are you talking about?"

Radiating so much innocence and naivety he nearly had a corona of light around him, Ha'ri smiled sweetly. "The white blond you polished to such a shine of course!" The boy had flushed in embarrassment, scowling and looking quite murderous before doing a double take.

He finally noticed the boy he had been talking was not human. "Merlin's beard! What are you?"

Nerevar, amused, had answered the boy from behind them. Which had made the child yelp and spin around in surprise.

"We are Dunmer, a derivative of Mer that were once Chimer. However we are also known as Dark Elves."

The boy had looked awestruck as he had gazed upon the exotic female, forgetting about the insult to his hair entirely.(2) Nerevar had been deeply amused, sensing puppy love in formation.

"Are you-" "Ha'ri Diabolus!" Ha'ri piped up the information the Breton had asked for via wordless eye communication. "Ha'ri's mother?"

She smirked, for it had been awhile since anyone on Nirn looked at her in quite that light of worship. They knew better by now. "Why yes. I am. How astute of you to notice."

The boy had seemed like he had just been praised by his Goddess, the sarcasm flying right over his shiny hair. Madam Malkin had then distracted her with sketches of Ha'ri's robes, which Nerevar had had to order changes to. The sheer ridiculousness of the robes were deeply counterproductive in fighting, so boxy and hampering. It was like the mages here had no concept of how to make proper battle apparel… Which was not a good sign in Nerevar's books. She was getting a feeling this may be an entirely new breed of useless civilians. Magical, useless civilians.

Madam Malkin, harrumphing about style and fashion made the alterations to the velvet robes as Nerevar had specified. She bought eight sets of Ha'ri's uniforms, one for each day of the week with a spare in case of damage.

"Let's go Ha'ri! We're off to 'Slugs and Jiggers'!"

Eagerly Ha'ri had trailed after her, neither paying much heed to the newcomer. The newcomer was a blonde man, dressed impeccably, and walked with a cane that seemed to be there for fashion purposes. After Nerevar had left, Draco sighed in a lovelorn manner to his father. The fool boy was smitten with the Incarnate.

"Father…I think I'm in love."

Lucius Malfoy chocked.

* * *

><p>If one took a poll for a word that could describe Severus Snape three words would tie for first place. Bastard, bitter, and potions.<p>

So it was a common occurrence to see Severus Snape lurking in potions stores, and their like, during the summer. And it was only during the summer could any Snape sightings be made off of Hogwarts' campus; sometimes not even then. Every now and then he bought ingredients, recipes, and even potions(3). Either way, Severus Snape positively lived for things devoted to his craft.

However, today he was here with a purpose.

Mysteriously, all of his supply of Monkshood had gone rotten. He would blame those damn redheaded nightmares, but they weren't around as a handy excuse. And now he was forced to go _shopping_ for some of the wretched plant.

Staring murderously at the sad little plant that was labeled as Monkshood, Severus Snape whirled around and marched to the counter to demand the quality he was looking for. When the clerk cowered at the sight of him, a former Hufflepuff, Severus Snape positively grinned on the inside. Just as he was about to tear of the trembling clerk's head verbally in a gory shower of magnificent diction, he was shocked by the duo that walked inside.

Obviously mother and son, they were armed to the teeth. And then they had removed their teeth so they could have jagged metal fangs as replacement teeth.

Some would say 'paranoid', but being a former spy, Severus Snape approved. He would be doing the same if he did not know the panic it would cause.(4) However, the blue-gray skin was new.

The woman smiled fondly as her son raced off babbling something about 'alchemy', and approached the counter. Severus Snape tensed as he felt the weight of a powerful personality and mind settle around him and the clerk. He sneered as the clerk transformed mentally and emotionally into a puppy eager for approval. He would never succumb to such, and he sneered at those who did. And it didn't hurt he was far too accustomed to other such personalities like Dumbledore and Voldemort to not have learned how to negate such influences.

"Excuse me, but can you help me? I need to pick up some ingredients for my son, but I have never heard of such ingredients as those on the list we were sent." She held out a familiar slip of parchment and, seeing a chance to learn more about this new player, he snatched it from her grasp.

Silkily, like dragging a silk handkerchief over a naked blade, he spoke. "I am the Potions Master at Hogwarts. Do you need assistance?" Her answering smile reminded him of a grinning Chimera.

"Why thank you, you are too kind Professor…?" "Snape. Severus Snape."

"Snape. You have my gratitude. You will be Ha'ri's potions instructor?" "That is correct."

Nerevar's smile crept from Chimera level to Basilisk.

"Then I should warn you, my son adores _explosions_." Severus paused and arched an eyebrow. "Very destructive, my son is. He makes me so proud sometimes... Ah yes, if you don't know already, your Headmaster hired me as your Defense instructor."

Severus raised both eyebrows, from his surprise at Albus hiring someone who looked competent (for once) and that someone actually enjoyed blowing themselves up.

He digested the valuable information she had imparted and said slowly, in a classical Slytherin drawl "Thank you…" "Nerevar of House Telvanni, and other things."

His eyebrows, which had returned to their usual place, rose again. "Nerevar. May I ask, just how…destructive would you describe your son? On a scale from Puffskein to Arch Duke of Hell?"

She turned thoughtful, red eyes unfocusing for a moment, before deciding "A Marquis of Hell. It would likely be safer to pair him with someone who knows what they are doing. I have no need of lawsuits'."

Nerevar finished with the distinct flavor of a prospective dictator to Severus. He smirked in amusement. It seemed like he would finally have a college who was not afraid to play in a Slytherin's arena. He drawled in sardonic amusement, the bitterness _almost_ leaving his voice "Indeed."

* * *

><p>"Why the Oblivion does my son need a stick?" "To properly channel his magic of course."<p>

"Bah! It is a stick! How can a stick help my son do anything other than poke someone's eyes out?" "It allows for finer control than a mortal could do-"

"Oh _please_! Spare me your lies!" The bug eyed old man sighed before dropping the quavering old man routine. And the illusion that had hid he was an Altmer who was barely beginning to silver.

"Look. These wizards…they're lazy and don't want to do things the way we do. So they use these miniature staffs to focus their magic rather than training to do so themselves. Sure they're rather inventive, and their spells are more varied and impractical than ours, but they're lazy. And I really can't overstate the laziness and sameness this place seems to prize.

Hell, I can't even remember the last time I saw one that wasn't like the rest and _didn't_ go down the path of the 'Dark Lord'. This here my lady is a society full of prejudiced, superstitious, inbred fools without so much as a drop of common sense to their collective name. There are some good parts, as with all things, but honestly this society is going to the dumps.

It's easier to have the stick and never use it, rather than stirring these sheep up about the fact you can do magic without a stick. These people never have an issue with backstabbery, cheating, or playing like they wallow in mud"

"By all the Aedra and Daedra, fine. …How much for the stick?" "Six septims."

"It's an Oblivion of a rip-off for a little stupid stick!" "I know!" "Damn cunning Altmer…here's your bloody septims. Give my son the stick now!" "

Here you go! Have a nice day and don't come back!"

* * *

><p>(1) Though wizards can have as much common sense as your average box of rotten hair, it was no exaggeration that Harry Potter's eye color had more speculation than even his scar had gotten. For the wizards had been right. Harry Potter's natural eye color was the exact color of the Killing Curse.<p>

(2) This is the first case on record that a Malfoy had let an insult about their hair slide. Usually they are very touchy on the issue. VERY touchy to be precise.

(3) Severus Snape hates to buy potions. Absolutely hates it. So his temper, usually near Vesuvius levels anyways, is even more volatile than usual. And it is a fact that many Hufflepuffs tend to become store owners and clerks. St. Mungos will see at least 5 former Hufflepuffs come in with either mental breakdowns or severe anxiety attacks whenever he has to buy potions, so it is actually within the guideline for Diagon Alley to give Severus Snape express potions service in an attempt to minimize the damage.*This attempt actually raised the hospitalization rate.

****(4) The first and only time Severus tried to maintain his usual levels of weaponized preparation, the entire student body had thought he was preparing for a slaughter of all the students. So they had all(Slytherins included) decided to take him out before he could finish his preparations. The entire student body had attacked him like he was a rogue human-eating Hungarian Horntail, with spellfire and weaponized potions. Severus Snape won. After that he was told to no longer go about as normal, and to look as unthreatening as he could manage.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight: Sex Slave?

Author's note: The only reason I'm writing right now is because you people have motivated my lazy ass with your reviews. And for those who ask why Tom would call Ha'ri Harry, wizards are inbred and anyone who has access to Google can get a quick summary of what happens when you do that. Anyone who is wondering when will Goblins come into play…that's a surprise for latter my pretties.

Nerevar: You forgot to mention you were considering pairing people off, and that there will probably be liberal use of cursing from now on. And Ha'ri's House needs voting on.

Sin: Oh…right. Anyways send in your ideas by either review or PM and go check out my polls! And for the cursing… in Elder Scrolls they use cursing all the friggin time.

EDIT: This is really looking better.

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><p>Ha'ri glumly regarded the bright red metallic death trap that came straight from one of Sanguine's more…odd moments. The Daedra had always been a little off his rocker, even by his mother's standards. He knew how to party but sometimes Nerevar had muttered to herself, and unknowingly her son as well, that she was sure someone was slipping him some sort of truly powerful skooma. Ha'ri would now agree with her, because there is no reason for having to ride the death trap to this school. And the fiasco he had had to go through to even get here.<p>

He had been dragged through an illusionary wall by what seemed to be a squishy brick wall. Which had turned out to be a family of redheads that had as one pushed the reluctant Dunmer through the wall.

He still was not sure why he had to go through the 'traditional' way, when his mother had made Vivec and Divayth take them straight to their rooms on the metal death trap. But he knew he must have pissed off Molag Bal quite badly to have been stuck with the lump of a redhead spawn from the incredibly fertile matriarch of the Red Clan. And he was pretty sure either the spawn had had his Speechcraft cursed or he had been dropped on his head too many times. All he could talk about was, "Cannons….icky spiders…Quidditch"

Idly he congratulated himself for learning the targeted silencing spell from Divayth. It was the only thing preventing his poor pointy ears from falling off as he waited for the evil trap from Molag Bal to get off it's lazy, ill-begotten metallic ass. Though he had yet to actually board the death trap yet, since he sensed someone was stalking him. With a foul curse in Daedric, one that would have had Vivec running for the steel wool and bleach, he whipped around to find the monochromatic Breton from before. He seemed determined to pop up at Ha'ri's inconvenience.

Ha'ri paused to regard the man behind him, who was equipped with a snake headed cane. What an inefficient weapon, and he really was quite sure it would snap with one good hard blow. Plus, for a man he was really too pretty for his own good. Seriously, the poor man _couldn't_ be considered handsome. He was _pretty_ or _beautiful_. Ha'ri did sort of like the Breton, and since his father looked kind of frail he thought he should educate his buddy about the dangers.

He spoke out loud.

"Draco, I really hope you keep a sharp eye out for your father. He's the type that tends to get made into the sex slaves all the Masters under Momma's command like to hide away in their Towers. He really is too pretty for his own good. In fact I don't know how he avoided becoming one since he doesn't look so powerful. And I'm quite sure Momma doesn't have the authority yet to get him back if he does get kidnapped… So keep an eye on him would you Draco?"

It became so quiet on Platform Nine and Three Quarters that an atom could have bumped into another atom by accident and it would have sounded like an avalanche. The Red Clan of redheads seemed divided between a sort of horrified awe and hysterical laughter at Ha'ri nonchalant seriousness, and so did everyone else. The ones who were dressed in practical non-dress robe outfits seemed to be thunderstruck, while their children seemed to be utterly confused or horrified.

Draco Malfoy blinked a bit, stunned senseless, before his utter puppy love of Ha'ri's mother washed away the offence to his father. He nodded to Ha'ri in a most serious manner, his face clearly communicating he had taken Ha'ri's words to heart. Lucius Malfoy on the other hand was not doing so well.

The, as stated before, far too pretty man was on the verge of doing something he would regret later. Like whipping out a certain mask and set of robes and Avada-ing everyone on this Platform in order to ensure this incident would never come to the Daily Prophet. Alas, he was too slow. The train let out shrill whistle that broke the silence, and the platform broke into frenzied motion.

Ha'ri calmly boarded the train in search of his family, moving past the various assortments of Redguards, Bretons, Imperials, and the select few with shiny badges. Finally he found the area his mother resided in and calmly plopped down onto his mother's lap. She raised an eyebrow to both of her new fellow professors that spoke volumes. They had been listening in via their window.

"I swear to Anything that will hear me, that spawn of yours Nerevar should never be allowed near Sheogorath." Vivec shuddered in horror at the thought of the Wabbajack in either the mother's or son's insane grasps. Nerevar, for all of her galavanting, had yet to actually wrangle the Wabbajack out of Sheogorath.

Divayth looked at the smiling mother oddly. "What is so amusing Nerevar?" She smirked at them. "Let's just say I have a feeling we will be living in some very interesting times for quite awhile."

* * *

><p>Elsewhere on the train the Red Clan met as one to discuss this most momentous occasion. Even Percy came to discuss it. Much merriment was to be heard as the twins pulled forth a magical camcorder(1), and showed their now most treasured possession. Percy swore to his brothers he would see the film copied, so each of the Red Clan would possess a piece of the newest family treasure. Even Ron managed to stop talking about the Cannons and spiders enough to celebrate, though he quickly returned to 'normal'.<p>

* * *

><p>In Hogwarts, Severus Snape was extremely hard pressed to not cackle in vicious amusement as his old friend(2) ranted about the injustice he had suffered at the hands of a blue skinned, elfin child. It was only the fortitude that came from being held repeatedly under the Cruciatus curse that saved him from collapsing to the ground in helpless laughter. Even so he still smirked at Lucius while he plotted internally.<p>

_Nerevar of House Telvanni was correct. Her son does like explosions. Now to get him into my House so this endless stream of amusement continues…_

His eyes glittered darkly as his _friend_ screamed with a high pitched girlish screech about Ha'ri. Oh yes, Severus Snape wanted the child for his House. After all it had been years since he had nearly lost his composure to laughter…

* * *

><p>In a tower room filled with the oddest bits and thingamabobs of magical origin, there sat a deeply disturbed man. He was attired in horrifically clashing colored robes that were so terrible as to be fitting for the Darkest of Dark Lords. One could see eyes that twinkled with insanity so powerful it blinded whomever was unfortunate enough to view it. It was truly horrifying.<p>

Albus Dumbledore could perhaps be described as a great wizard, despite the obvious effects of insanity, senility, and a strange obsession with lemon drops. Currently, he was choking to death on one of his beloved lemon drops due to the scene he had observed with a scrying spell.

Albus Dumbledore failed about like a fish on land (one without a primitive lung mind you) while his phoenix watched with ill concealed amusement. It had waited for this day for many years…

The door opened to admit the cat-woman, who then proceeded to frantically call for their healer. Fawkes let out a melody consisting of curse words no one would ever dream of a phoenix knowing. _Cheated again, damn them!_ Fawkes thought to himself with frustrated melancholy. This was the third time this year he had gotten his hopes up and he wanted Death to get on with his job.

The phoenix muttered melodically about 'old farts with lemon mania that should just go get Avada-ed by Tom'.

* * *

><p>(1) A Ravenclaw had loaned it to them, for their Potion based experiments, in exchange for a little help in revenge matters. The Ravenclaw had taken it as a personal slight that Trelawny had refused to let her out of Divination, and thus had received her first and only Troll.<p>

(2) Friend was sometimes a strong word for their relationship. They sometimes fit it, but they were often more like frenemies.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine: Laugh A Little

A/N: This chapter was written on paper. The previous one was written on the computer. I wonder what makes the difference? So what do you guys think about pairings? Should I do them, or just hint at stuff? Vote in my poll!

EDIT- Polishing

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><p>Nerevar smiled at her sleeping son; he had fallen asleep soon after coming in. He was too cute for his own good. Though she thought he was cuter with his claret red eyes instead of Welkynd Stone green.<p>

She looked at Divayth and Vivec and smiled. It was a smile so viciously amused even Severus Snape would have been proud to have smiled such a smile. The two bitter rivals had fallen asleep on the same well-padded bench. They were currently hugging each other tightly, the other being the only thing keeping the hugger upright. Apparently both were cuddlers.

And both were sleep talking.

"I don't have any wives, I'm a _bachelor_…"

"Roses are red, violets are blue, without a ten foot pole I wouldn't touch you…"

She let out a snort of amusement. _Vivec makes up insulting poetry in his sleep. Priceless blackmail is to be had here. Now I know why he's called the **Poet**_. Nerevar let out a bark of laughter, before noticing the contraption was slowing. They must be nearly to the Warty Hog then. Quickly she shook Ha'ri awake, amused by his sleepy babbling.

"I'm sorry for whatever I did Molag Bal, Your Terribleness, but please go away." Impatiently she laid an electrifying hand on his shoulder, earning a sharp yelp that woke the still sleeping duo.

Both grumbled about 'accursed godsons' before shrieking (in a manly manner of course!) at finding themselves in each other's embrace. It set off the other two occupants into hysterics.

At both Ha'ri's and Nerevar's laughter they both shot the laughing duo betrayed looks in perfect synch. It only made them laugh harder. "Why did you let that occur?!" They both said in an accusing voice, before cringing together at their synchronicity. Ha'ri was close to fainting before he managed to regain himself, only to start laughing again when Nerevar had to add in her two septims.

"You two are like an old married couple; I knew the heated rivalry was just a cover for what's _really_ going on. When's the wedding and where's my gilded invitation? I'm both the maid of honor and the best man right?"

They turned a peculiar color at her words, somewhere between flushing in anger and paling in disgust. With the Dunmer complexion it was a sight to behold; a hysterical sight.

And then they erupted.

Their simultaneous screaming rants were to be heard throughout the entire train (1), causing the youngest students to quail at the thought that lunatics were on the train. The older ones shrugged before going back to whatever they had been doing, concluding it must be the newest Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

* * *

><p>Midway through the truly spectacular rants, Nerevar shooed Ha'ri off to go with the other younglings. Boy needed to go find his own versions of Divayth and Vivec in miniature after all.<p>

Then she disembarked with her two slav-_ahem_-friends. They had been told someone from the existing staff would escort them to the welcoming banquet, and the trio looked for an adult amidst the raging sea of children. Nerevar spotted a familiar gaunt face that stood within a bubble of space no child (2), so much as placed a toe inside. Nerevar gave the stoic man a sharp edged smile.

"So Burmble-Doris sent you?" Severus let out a tiny amused smile. Wait, scratch that. Actually it was so tiny it did not really qualify as a smile. It was more of a barely there upward quirking of his lips, something that required a highly discerning eye to even perceive. But for Severus Snape it was grinning.

"It's Dumbledore Nerevar, though Burmble-Doris is more…amusing. And I volunteered since I wished to ask you opinion on something, while introducing myself to your colleagues." Nerevar gestured to her impeccably dressed companions in their respective velvet robes. "This is Divayth Fyr and Vivec."

Severus shook the two's hands, noting their deference to Nerevar despite the deeply magical feel to them. "Severus Snape, Potions Professor. We need to arrive before the…_children_ (3). Follow me please."

With a flurry of black robes Severus was striding off alongside his three new (and for once they seemed intelligent,) fellow staff members. "Which House do you think your son will be Nerevar?" Severus asked as he internally chanted _Slytherin, Slytherin, let it be Slytherin._

"Hmm…Divayth, Vivec?" Both of the male elves gave a grimace before saying in tandem "Slytherin, no doubt." Nerevar regally inclined her head, the black velvet gown with silver trimming enhancing the regal motion. Severus contented himself with a triumphant smirk.

* * *

><p>Severus watched as Divayth and Vivec complained to Dumbledore about their seating arrangement. They had no desire to sit next to each other, and were completely unfazed by the nearly homicidal twinkle in his rheumy eyes. Which was only magnified by his half-moon spectacles. It was amusing to see someone else, for once, being bullheaded enough to resist Dumbledore.<p>

He turned to his left a tad and said to Nerevar with a drawl "Those two friends of yours are amusing." She smirked. "This is actually pretty mild for them; they're holding back to be polite since it's a banquet tonight. Ah, your Hordes are amusing in how they keep staring at us in awe."

Severus chuckled at the apt description of the students, for they did tend to act like barbarian hordes. He chuckled even harder as the entire Hall grew quiet at the sight of his laughter. Well, except Dumbledore and the outraged duo who were completely oblivious to this rare phenomenon. Nerevar turned to him and gave him an amused smile.

"My, they are easily impressed. Oh look, here comes the Initiates."

Indeed a miniature sea of black robes was coming in nervously with the usual gawking and awed muttering as they were led by Minerva. She looked sourer than usual. Had one of the students fallen into the lake? Idly he mused aloud.

"Minerva looks even more tense than usual for her. Must be another Weasley." Nerevar muttered back with a wicked smile, a matching one to the smiles Divayth and Vivec sported on his right. It looked like they had lost to Dumbledore, or gave in, since they were sitting next to one another. A pity.

"She should spend a day or two at the Earthly Pleasures then. I'm sure either the males or females would be more than happy to lend her a hand or two." It took Severus a moment to process the thought of Minerva McGonagall visiting a whorehouse, because his mind had trouble trying to conceive of such a thing ever occurring. But when he did he laughed as viciously amused as a Voldemort who was Crucio-ing a minion. The image was just too much!

With his laughter there came a change over the Hall. The older students, even the Slytherins, looked like they had either soiled themselves or were on the verge of a heart attack. The First Years looked completely confused to the reactions.(4) He was sure he saw many of the senior Hufflepuffs experience emotional breakdowns and hysterical tears as they dug out parchment and quill, likely to write out their wills and their last words.

The silence did not last long as Minerva began to read off the names at Dumbledore's _almost_ malevolent twinkle. The children went where they always did with few exceptions. 'Dark' children went to Slytherin, the chattering know-it-alls went to Ravenclaw, and the assorted bag of Muggleborns and Light pureblood children went to either Hufflepuff or Gryffindor. Divayth, who was on his immediate right, whispered to him.

"I'll bet you that Ha'ri causes that Hat to do something…Unusual." He snorted. "I don't bet on fixed odds." "Damn. I was hoping you hadn't picked up on that."

Minerva called out the next student. "…Ha'ri Diabolus." The elven child walked forward. As he did, the Hall grew to be filled to the brim with the unbridled and instinctive fear of the students and staff.(5).In all humans there is still a part of the brain that walks as a quadruped, and knows when something wicked comes this way. Unfortunately this instinctive pearl of wisdom is all too frequently ignored.

* * *

><p>Ha'ri regarded the extremely frayed Hat that had a decent singing voice. If he stretched his mind a bit, he could say the Hat's folds looked like a face. Ha'ri wondered if the Hat had a name before shrugging and sitting on the stool with his new headwear. He then heard a voice in his head that was not himself or anyone he knew.<p>

"_You are very much a psychotic time bomb waiting to explode, aren't you Mr. Diabolus?_" '_Oi! What are you doing in my mind Mr. Hat? Or should I call you Mr. Mind Rapist? I should probably call for Momma…_' "NO! Don't you dare sic that she-demon on me! And I am not a Gods-forsaken mind rapist you little hypocrite!"

The Hat screeched aloud by accident, garnering all sorts of looks from the wizards. "_Now look what you've made me do you mini-Devil. Salazar would be holding this one over Godric's head, if the old Basilisk was still around, for all eternity. Anyways let's take a look-see here…_" '_That's really not a good idea Mr. Rapist Hat…Oh well, I_ did _warn you_.'

The Hat screamed a blood curdling cry and leapt off the child's head sobbing.

Everyone (except for the aforementioned exceptions) looked at the Hat in horror as it crawled to Madam Pomfrey. "Make it stop! Oh by whatever you swear by, get that out of my head! Obliviate me, please, in the name of mercy!"

The Hat threw itself at her slipper clad feet as it wailed "Gods damn you Ha'ri Diabolus! If there was a House of Upcoming Antichrists you would be in it! Slytherin can handle you! Gryffindor would become your kamikaze squad; Ravenclaw would be infected with your _youness_; and Hufflepuff would make you their God to their loyal acolytes!

Take him, Severus, and his mother too! A pox upon you Devil! I cannot unsee what I have seen!"

After that, the Hat broke down babbling incoherently.(6)

Ha'ri shrugged and made his way to the Green Horde and sat down by Draco after being given a wide berth by self-persevering Snakes. Severus positively vibrated in his spot with the effort required to not to burst out laughing at the look on Albus' face.

After Madam Pomfrey Obliviated the Hat the Sorting continued. However the new Snakes started silently sobbing as they walked to their table. Eventually they would be forced to sit by Ha'ri, because their table had only so much space. They garnered many pitying looks.

Once all the First Years were Sorted, Dumbledore stood to give the same speech as he did every year with a few additions. "Stay away from the Third Floor Corridor unless you wish to die a slow and painful death. And as our returning students know, we have three new professors.

Professor Divayth Fyr, of Astrology and Divination due to Sybill leaving us earlier in the summer(7).

Professor Vivec, of History due to our new Defense instructor Nerevar…aiding Binns into the afterlife(8).

And Professor Nerevar of House Telvanni will be you new Defense instructor of course. Now let us begin the banquet!"

Food appeared and the students turned their attention to their empty stomachs. The Second Years and up all did so with fear chilling their hearts and rattling their bones.

_For Severus Snape was laughing because of the trio of elves_.

* * *

><p>(1) Yes the <em>entire<em> train. Including the engine and boiler compartments.

(2) Excluding Ha'ri of course. He was completely immune to the kind of deadly menace Severus positively radiated by now.

(3) Severus had a way with words. He pronounced children like someone would say _flesh eating disease_ or_ rotting maggot invested corpses that have been decaying for the last decade_. There is actually a multigenerational club among the Ravenclaws that investigates whether or not Severus Snape is actually using some sort of code when he starts _texturing_ his words. The current theory is that the _texturing_ is Severus Snape gloating about how he will kill his victims to his victims. The fact there seems to be some evidence that lends some validity has only made it worse.

(4) Later on, once they had the Snape experience, they experience similar reactions.

(5) Except Nerevar, Divayth, Vivec, Severus, and Dumbledore of course.

(6) The Hat had to get therapy from a Squib psychologist later on.

(7) Sybil had gotten an inkling of what was going to happen and proceeded to get the Hell out of Dodge.

(8) She aided him with a clean bisection of her Daedric Dai-Katana.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten: Getting To Know You

A/N: I bet anyone my age knows where the title came from…The animated version of The King and I! Anyways the Skyrim fic you wanted so badly has been posted, so go see the product of your voting! Also how do you guys feel about a fic that gives samples on the ideas on my poll? (Which you should go vote on)

As for why this took so long…my computer had a 'moment'.

EDITING- In progress and going nicely.

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><p>Nerevar eyed the Initiates in their nice orderly rows with calculating eyes alight with hellfire.<p>

Not a single one of them knew how to even throw a punch. It was plain to see in the very way they moved, and how they didn't move. It was pitiful, but she had not known just how _badly_ their education had been neglected. Now she knew to not expect anything different. But she had hoped for one or two that were not completely useless, one or two deviations from the norm. Alas, that hope had been dashed.

She stepped out from her shadowed corner, clad in her leather armor that marked her as the Thieves' Guildmaster. She wore two sets of Daedric tanto Daedric, one pair strapped across her ample bust and the other at her waist. She was frowning severely in displeasure. The children quaked in fear (except for Ha'ri and his pale new friend) as she pulled a tanto from her waist. Its black blade gleamed dully in the light, the veins of blood pulsing with weak light. It emanated a sense of danger, and the sensation of _hunger_.

Idly she spun it through her blue fingers like it was nothing more than a coin, making sure all those eyes were completely fixated upon the tanto. Nerevar wanted their attention, fear, and respect as soon as she could get it, so she was going to make this impressive. She spun it in a particularly difficult pattern, a pattern complex beyond all reason and not something to use in battle. But it looked _damn impressive_.

Nerevar threw the tanto through the rows of students at the pattern's conclusion, too fast to let them even register she had thrown it for a moment. It flew to sink into the wood of the high-backed chair, just above the hair of a redhead Imperial, the tanto quivering from the force as it was imbedded in the chair. The redhead quivered like a terrified lamb before a Daedra before his eyes rolled into the back of his head. He fainted and slammed into his desk, his fellows edging away from him.

The children stared.

Nerevar smiled tranquilly.

"Now young Initiates, listen and listen well. My name is Nerevar. Just Nerevar. None of this 'Professor Nerevar' or 'Ms. Nerevar' business. But if you must be formal you may call me Hortator, Incarnate, Nerevarine, or She-Who-Commands-The-Moons-And-Stars; I prefer Nerevar."

Idly she walked back to her desk. It was located in the center of the classroom upon a dais, and leaned against it. "Now that's out of the way…" She sighed before fixing the children with a piercing look. It was one that pierced almost(1) as much as Professor Snape's the students would later claim.

"I'm here to teach you how to wield a multitude of weaponry and how to kill with magic. You can doll it up with all the fancy names you want, or justify it as self-defense. But do understand at least this, _dear children_." Her eyes gained an unholy light as she began to warm to her topic(2).

"I was hired to teach you how to look into someone's eyes as they beg for their life and execute them. I was hired to teach you how to survive the horrors of the world. And how to send them to their grave in small, blood encrusted pieces.

I will teach you how to kill, maim, and survive children! I will not bother try to justify this with any philosophy or morals as your parents might. I will never excuse this by saying 'They are Muggleborn.' Or, 'They are not human.' Or even, 'They are not one of us, they are not one of the Light/Dark'." Such disdain was packed into the words she had formed into the excuses, enough to fill the lake in front of the castle several times over.

"For don't fool yourselves children, this is cold blooded killing. Nothing more, and nothing less." The children watched the female with sickened faces, even the ones who had initially appeared apathetic. United, they all had one thought. _This woman is a monster._

Nerevar was unconcerned by their horror, for she was telling her truth.

Vivec had researched her class, just for the Oblivion of it. And had proceeded to rant about how the children were told it was morally correct to kill anything not strictly human or on their side in their wars. Now while Nerevar was easily called a mass murderer (on such a grand scale she could be called genocidal if she targeted one race or group), she did not think it was right to teach children that way.

If children were going to learn how to kill, fight, and maim, there should be no sugarcoating or justification. That kind of idiocy only lead to psychological breaks when it all came crashing down. Perhaps she could have been less like blunt force trauma and more subtle, but Nerevar preferred to be brutally honest in such minefields. Better to let them know what they were going to be learning now, before finding out in the middle of battle.

"In my class you will not wear anything but the leather armor I will be giving you. I have personally enchanted them, and they will more than suit your needs. You will never use those abominations called 'wands'.

What I teach you, you will never use against me, my son, Divayth, or Vivec with the intent to kill unless I say so. For if you do so, I will teach you the painful way why the Telvanni are so feared; we keep our enemies alive." Her face was as murderously intent for a moment before it lightened into her customary smile.

"Alright everyone! Here you go! Put them on now, no exceptions!" She began handing out the armor, making little adjustments with her magicka as the children began putting them on. They all obeyed mindlessly, forgetting they even ever heard about the word modesty, as they donned their leather armor.

"Good. You are much faster learners than your elders, something that will help you. Now watch me children. This is the Flames spell."

A roaring flame hovered inside her partially closed fist, stray tendrils of flame reaching out like claws of hungry demons. "Now pull on your magic, though the correct word is magicka, in a continuous flow and ignite it with your will. You should have the same results as I display with my right hand here."

She gestured to her still partially closed hand before a bushy haired girl burst out breathlessly, "But we need our wands for spellwork!" Nerevar paused in her demonstration. Her head slowly turned to the now paling girl of the Red horde. Quietly she left her dais and began to prowl over to the bushy haired girl without a word. An air of anticipation filled the room as the children watched Nerevar stalk her way to the girl.

She stopped right in front of the girl, who was on the second row, and leaned into her personal space as she turned the full power of her entire mind onto the girl.

"Little girl, what is your name?"

Nervously the bushy haired child squeaked her answer. It surprised Nerevar ever so slightly, because the usual reaction was the loss of consciousness.

"Hermione Granger, She-Who-Commands-The-Moons-And-Stars." A serpentine smile snuck across Nerevar's blue-gray face as she regarded the very brave (or very stupid) child before her.

"Hermione, who do you think you are?" She circled her chosen target, as best she could when the desks were one long unbroken row with separate seats. "You seem intelligent, despite being in the Horde known for suicidal tendencies. But do you honestly think you know _more_ than _me_?"

By then, Nerevar was standing behind Hermione. She leaned in closely while she held her flaming fist close to the frightened girl's face. Without as much as a telltale twitch she launched the continuous stream of fire into the wall, carefully just above the children's heads.

"I did not need a 'wand' Hermione. Neither do you."

The bushy haired child quivered like a frightened rabbit, but unlike the other to receive Nerevar's _attentions_ she did not faint. Nerevar regarded the girl with appraising eyes. She could see that, perhaps, buried under that deceiving exterior a true Telvanni battlemage was lying in wait for someone to spring her forth.

She gave the girl a small smile in approval, shocking Hermione (3), before she made her way back to her dais. Nerevar settled herself at her desk before she continued. "Ha'ri come over here and show them how to maintain a Flames spell."

Ha'ri idly got up and walked to a wall with a sloppily painted white dot upon it, and used both hands to merge two intense jets of fire. The wall turned black with soot.

"Very good. Now it's time for a pop quiz everyone!" Nerevar announced to the terrified children with a brilliant smile. She summoned fifteen Scamps in quick succession. They had no spells controlling them for the moment, only Nerevar's awe inspiring will. They looked at the children with a starved look upon their red faces.

"I believe in learning under fire children, so here's your pop quiz! Do or die children. And Ha'ri? You are exempt, since it would be an unfair advantage against the Scamps."

And with that, Nerevar released her hold upon the Scamps. The Scamps launched themselves at the screaming and crying children with claws and spells at the ready. Nerevar smiled. She watched how the pale Breton boy and the bushy haired Hermione teamed up and began using primitive Flame spells to char the Scamps into submission.

Nerevar was proud she at least had _two_ fighters in this class; at least they had not wet themselves like the eldest children when she had summoned Exploding Familiars!

* * *

><p>After the school day had concluded, Nerevar, Divayth, and Vivec had sauntered down to the Dungeons to meet up with their favorite colleague; Severus Snape.<p>

They had been invited to his quarters to share drinks and how their day had gone. And after dealing with children and teenagers, the alcohol was looking to be rather nice. It took them a few minutes, but they found his suite soon enough. Though they found it odd that instead of a door there was one of those animated paintings as a substitute. The subject of the painting looked quite impressive, decked out in armor and such while standing atop a small mountain of corpses. Rather appropriate, they thought.

"Nerevar, Divayth, Vivec, come in. I'll fetch the Firewhiskey." Vivec grinned, and held out a sack full of ceramic jugs. "I have Sujamma, Mazte, Flin, and even some Dagoth Brandy!" The quartet went inside.

The suite's interior was decorated in silver, green, and black, a very elegant affair with several very plush chairs(more like thrones.) They chose their seats and proceeded to get comfortable. After a quick debate, Severus was voted to be the alcohol decanter dispenser since he claimed he knew how to brew something that would completely eliminate hangovers.

Severus poured them shots of their chosen alcohol, everyone with a different kind of alcohol. Surprisingly, he ended up pouring himself a shot of Dagoth Brandy along with his Firewhiskey. They all quietly downed their shots, each grabbing their respective jug or decanter and pouring another. Severus remarked quietly he found the Dagoth Brandy to be excellent.

After they had fortified themselves with alcohol, Nerevar started them out.

"Alright. How did your first day go Divayth?"

Divayth threw back his Flin shot like the experienced drinker he was. "Just lovely. My Divinations classes…" Severus interrupted, now feeling relaxed enough to do so, and said "I do have a Pensieve if you wish to show us your memories."

There was some confusion over what on Nirn a Pensieve was. After explaining just what a Pensieve did, Severus showed them the bowl and extracted the copy of Divayth's memories. The world then went black, before they found themselves in the Divinations tower.

* * *

><p>Divayth had sequestered himself on a throne of cushions upon a raised dais, laying indolently with several tomes spread all over the dais. He arranged for two children to a table like Sybill had done, but cast a spell that made the Initiates seek out strangers to sit with.<p>

The room was pretty much unchanged Severus noted. Divayth had expended little effort in changing the room, except for a few key differences. There were over a dozen bookcases full of books lining the room instead of draperies, and the eternal stench of perfumes and incense was gone. The students, a mixed bag from all the Houses, had arranged themselves as they wished(or so they thought) as they regarded the lounging elf.

When all had seated, Divayth stirred himself to speech. "Salutations, I am Divayth of House Telvanni and I'm to teach you about Divination. But before I tackle that subject, I will answer any questions you may have right now."

This prompted a great susurrus of quiet words. The students whispered amongst themselves silently before a crafty Slytherin began the questioning.

"Professor Divayth, you introduced yourself as of House Telvanni. Are you related to Nerevar then?"

Divayth's eyes bulged as he choked on air before he was able to respond. "NO! Thank all the Aedra and Daedra, no! I am her subordinate, for she is Head of our House." Another Slytherin piped up.

"So you married into House Telvanni?" Divayth shook his head in exasperation. It was like these Initiates had no idea what kind of Houses there were. "No little Imperial. Now let me explain. House Telvanni is a House that you join, not marry into or be born into.

House Telvanni is mainly a house of highly egocentric and ambitious wizards. It is common to rise through our ranks by eliminating, or otherwise 'indisposing' other members. In fact that's how Nerevar became the Head of our House. She slaughtered our former head in one on one combat, and then had to beat the Masters into submission. As Heads go, she's probably the strongest Head we've ever had. Both in personal power and political might."

One of Godric's children asked in a rare, but not that uncommon, bout of insight "What kind of political weight does Nerevar pull Professor?"

Divayth snorted in amusement at the Red Horde Initiate, before turning his amused gaze upon the entire class.

"Nerevar holds the entire Province in her grip, and she also has a very loud voice in Cyrodiil that the Emperor always listens to. Now that's all the questions for today, tomorrow you may ask more."

There were many not-so-quiet 'aws' all around. They all wanted to know more.

"Now on the subject of Divination, there is no such thing. Either you're born with the talent or you're not. The order of the Blind Moth is not to be placed within this category, because they are the exception. And they're crazy enough to be willing to risk permanent blindness just by trying.

Now I'm going to teach you how fun Runes are…"

The memory ended and they found themselves back in Severus' rooms. Divayth was promptly regarded with exasperated looks as Nerevar commented.

"Really Divayth? Runes? You never do change despite living for so long."

Divayth blushed but refused to discuss the topic further, only downing shots of his Flin. Vivec was tapped to go next, but he deviated from the previous method. Probably because Divayth had used it.

Vivec declined the use of the Pensieve. The only thing he would say, with a maniacal gleam in his mismatched eyes, was "They won't try sleeping in _my_ class again." Nerevar giggled at the images Vivec's look conjured. Severus just chuckled darkly in amusement, knocking back his Firewhiskey and Brandy combo.

"Ha'ri managed to make all the potions his class had made explode in tempo to the beat of a song he was singing. I've never been so amused in my life at a potion exploding. The cheeky brat even said he was trying to tie the explosions into the song so they would remain stable until the song was sung. Then they were supposed to explode violently. I actually gave him five points for inventiveness, before I broke out laughing at the idea of using his experiment on the battlefield.

And then I had to have one of the Gryffindors hauled off because he fainted when I started laughing."

Nerevar grinned at Severus before taking another swig. "That's my boy!" Vivec snorted at her words while Divayth shook his head in exasperation. "How did your day go Nerevar?" He inquired. He wondered if any children were still alive since her teaching measures were rather 'extreme'. She blessed them with a radiant smile.

"I gave them a pop quiz!" Vivec shivered in fear for the children, wondering who was insane enough to have let Nerevar into a position where she could spread her madness onto future generations.

In another dimension, the Daedra of Twilight, Azura, gave such a violent sneeze a part of her dimension was blown apart from the force of the blast. "Oh for the love of little apples…"

Nerevar continued unfazed.

"The children did better than expected. They managed to kill fifteen Scamps with only a Flames spell. Hermione Granger, and the monochromatic child in your Horde Severus, paired up and slaughtered all but one of them."

Well on his way to being truly drunk, Severus laughed a tipsy, amused laugh. The laugh was actually rather familiar to the Wizarding World, since it was very close to being like a younger and not-disembodied Voldemort.

He imagined how Lucius would become rabid enough to start foaming at the mouth at the thought of Draco _willingly_ teaming up with the _Gryffindor Muggleborn_ Hermione Granger. Divayth laughed with Severus also, while Vivec was choking. Severus then said the last thing either of the quartet would remember in the morning.

"How ironic of you Nerevar. A trial by fire!

* * *

><p>(1) Students claim a piercing look from Severus is more akin to having a scalpel part the layers, one millimeter at a time, and then cuts out something.( Legilimency does have its uses) Nerevar's is supposedly more like being speared with a trident and held aloft.<p>

(2) The more religious Muggleborns would describe it to their friends as akin to looking within the eyes of a Satanic spawn of Hell itself.

(3) She had never been taught by a Telvanni.

(4) He was widely known to be a nearly unquenchable drinker on Nirn. The perks of coming pretty close to godhood.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven: Rude Awakenings

A/N: Yep this is late because my computer wouldn't work, my Mom broke her fingers, exams needed studying for, and I had to visit relatives… The list goes on and on! Anyways I'm leaving for GREECE this Sunday for two weeks! So no updates!

VOTE ON POLL!

P.S. Partners is next for updating if all goes to plan. EDIT Scrubbing away~

* * *

><p>Ha'ri was akin to a deadly, <em>dangerous <em>puzzle game to his dorm mates; one that resisted all attempts to solve it too. And with Slytherins, secrets were not considered to be a private thing, but something to be ferreted out and gossiped about. Ergo, everyone wanted reenact the Spanish Inquisition with the strange elven boy. But after experiencing his mother… Well. That was that.

But that was not quite relevant right now. Right now, there was serious business afoot.

Blaise Zabini glared at Theodore Nott. The Italian was not pleased that the pale haired Anglo Saxon by blow was trying to force him to wake the devil that was currently sleeping the morning away. Blaise knew better than to give into the moron, not even for a Life Debt, but he just wasn't getting the

message. Maybe it was time to put away the rapier and pull out the club.

"Nott… My mother taught me several castration curses. Undetectable and untraceable castration curses. If you try and force me to wake Diabolus, I will use them on you."

Blaise wanted to cringe at his Gryffindor bluntness, but Nott apparently was one of those rare Slytherins that needed to be clubbed over the head before they gave up. Nott winced greatly and unconsciously moved to cover his family jewels. Good. Maybe he would finally leave him alone now. Then Ha'ri's sleep talk became audible.

"…Muhaha! Momma was right! The Game is more fun when you jump out from the dark corners and scream war cries…"

Nott paled at the sleep babble, something apparently disturbing him. Blaise raised an eyebrow at the visible tell, and Nott made to go over to the Malfoy princeling. Blaise inwardly both applauded his cunning in using the strangely Nerevar obsessed boy and condemned him on taking the chance of drawing Malfoy Senior's wrath if the little princeling was…damaged. Blaise pondered on the cons and pros of telling Nott to man up and wake Ha'ri by using a light jinx, something like an Aquamenti.

The pros were Nott would owe him and Blaise would not to have to possibly go to Nott's untimely

funeral (1). On the other hand he would not have to wake Ha'ri and he would gain great amusement

from watching the whole debacle. Blaise reached the Slytherin decision, and mourned the opportunity of great amusement.

"Nott, man up and aim an Aquamenti at him. I would do so from as far away as possible if you value your life."

Nott flushed (another tell that would not help him in the House of Serpents) in acknowledgement that he now owed Zabini a heavy favor. And it was only a few days after starting the term too.

Nott moved far away from their blue gray skinned dorm mate and the stuttered out

"Aq aq aquamenti!" The stream of water was weak and small, due to the stuttering and the fact Nott had never actually used the spell before, but it was more than enough to wake the battle maniac elf. Ha'ri shot out of bed with a wordless enraged scream, crackling streams of lightning shooting out of his palms.

Blaise instinctively hit the decks and rolled behind a four poster bed just before the raging demon aimed the blue purple white lightning at him. Enraged at his target's evasion tactics, Ha'ri turned to the other one. Judging by Nott's electrified screams, Blaise concluded Nott must have gotten into Slytherin by a fluke. It was clear he had no self preservation, but that was actually useful for Blaise right now. Blaise was no longer a target since Nott had so graciously volunteered. He remained huddled behind the bed while he listened to Ha'ri's monologue to Nott.

Blaise found it…enlightening.

"How dare you! How dare you think to wake me, son of the Nerevarine Incarnate, you foul little creature! Do you think you are my better, to wake me as one might a slave? I am no slave! I am Ha'ri Diabolus, Focus of Hecate's Prophecy and Successor to the Will of the Nine and the Daedra Princes from Their Champion Nerevar!

I. Am. Not. A. Slave!"

Nott's cries increased after the monologue, though the sound of lighting died off. Blaise didn't look to see what Ha'ri had switched to.

Blaise was busy processing the new information that slavery in general was a sensitive topic for the elf. But it didn't make sense. There was no way Nerevar had sold her son, and Blaise seriously doubted anyone could have kidnapped her kid. So was he adopted? And if so, had he been a slave before Nerevar took him in?

Blaise had seen Half Bloods react like this when someone negatively mentioned their Muggleborn or Muggle parent, and it had not been pretty. So he might be dealing with a similar situation. And since the last Slytherin Half Blood to be reckoned with had been Severus Snape…(2) Well, at least Nott didn't need to fear being poisoned for the rest of their school years if he survived.

Grimly certain, Blaise would bet that being accused of being a slave in any way or form wherever Ha'ri had come from was an insult that would translate into the Wizarding World's Duel to the Death. He resolved to never mention slavery around Ha'ri ever.

But before Blaise could use his cunning to rescue his imbecile of a dorm mate, the door slammed open to admit a bloodshot Professor Snape. To Blaise's experienced eye the man looked to be suffering from a hellish hangover and had yet to have time to consume either a Painkiller potion or a Hangover cure. The man looked like he was going to burst apart from his fury as he roared,

"What is going on here?!"

Ha'ri quit using the ice and fire spells on Nott and turned to his temporary commander.

"This sponge thought he would get away with the unparalleled insult of implying I was in any way a slave."

Professor Snape pinched the bridge of his nose, looking exasperated beyond most measures. Blaise heard him murmur "…I am not looking forwards to the staff meeting today," Before speaking in a louder tone.

"Nott, detention with Nerevar. You may tell her why I sent you on your own. And if I hear that you _lied(3)_…" Professor Snape hissed the last bit with utter malice before sweeping out of the dorm.

The slightly burnt Slytherin (the lightning had been very low on the amps comparatively, and Ha'ri hadn't really gotten going with the fire and ice spells,) shook like a leaf before he collapsed in a dead faint.

Blaise sneered at Nott.

Really, what fool would take the advice of the son of the Deadly Nightshade when the fool knew said son held neither affection for him nor owed him a favor?

* * *

><p>Ha'ri went through the day in a foul mood and nothing could allay his ire after the whole debacle this morning.<p>

Had he not gotten enough flak about being an adopted slave from everyone on Nirn? Ha'ri scowled at the innocent plant in front of him as he contemplated how much better it would be if the darn plants caught fire. Then he could go to Alchemy. He had been reading his books late last night while his family went carousing and he really wanted to see what happened when you mixed a Levitation potion with the Singing Bullfrog potion.

Would you levitate and sing at the same time? Would you suddenly feel the urge to take flight and build a nest among the songbirds?

Ha'ri cackled manically to himself within his mind as he mused on all the possibilities. "Muhahahaha!" Ha'ri paused momentarily as he looked at all the fearful faces in the greenhouse. Had he laughed aloud

again? Unsure about what he had done, Ha'ri glared down the trembling Gryffindors and fellow

Slytherins before returning to glaring at his plant. He felt a distant satisfaction as it wilted beneath his gaze.

Now to plot _glorious __revenge _against the sponge…

* * *

><p>Nerevar regarded her fellow magi with anticipation, hoping this would be fun. Crumble Snore had sent her a yellow, sticky note that had smelled of lemons and musty old men to alert her of this meeting; it had even been covered in sparkling, smiling faces that had disturbed Vivec when he had seen the note. Surely only a fun individual could or would send such a note?<p>

Nerevar hoped Burble More would turn out to be fun and not a 'skooma addled quim' like Divayth had leonine tartan mage was already there, as well as the short one and the plant mage. Divayth and Vivec were discussing something in the Dwemer language. Severus was still not in sight.

Some time passed, but without anything occurring Nerevar began to amuse herself. She summoned Scamps and commanded them to begin a game amongst the two of 'Catch the Fireball Before I Turn to Ash.' The current two were old hands at the game; they had survived their respective rivals the longest of any two Scamps, and were pleased at having a captive audience. The teachers that were there, as well as the ones trickling in, were fascinated.

It was an intense game (neither Scamp wanted to die) and Nerevar had the best seat as everyone stopped talking and began to take bets and cheer on their chosen Scamp. The leonine tartan mage and the short and squeaky one bet on the Scamp with the heavily chewed on left ear. They quietly urged it on with sneaky spells to enhance it and refresh its magicka.

The mage missing limbs, the plant mage, and the numbers mage bet on the cross eyed Scamp. They cheered on the Scamp with loud cries, sending paralyzing spells at its foe. Vivec, Divayth, and Nerevar declined to bet because the amusement was more than enough payment for them. (The Roman Emperors come to mind.) Their fellow magi were turning out much more entertaining than the Scamps themselves.

Alas, the games were forced to come to a halt when Humble Gloris appeared and called the meeting to order.

The fight had grown stifling in its heated competitiveness, with the spells of her fellow magi prolonging the battle much longer than it would usually take. By the Daedra, the Scamps were wearing conjured armor and were swinging conjured weapons for goodness' sake! (4)A smooth drawl crept into her pointy ears, letting her know Severus had snuck in.

"It looks like no one noticed I wasn't on time for once. How quaint of them to be so… _observant_."(5) She had looked at the black clad figure out of the corner of her eyes, lips curving into a smirk while her compatriots had watched the match to ensure no one got _too_out of hand.

"So what kept you Severus?"

"Your son delayed my entire day with his antics." He had stated with reluctantly amused, but dark, humor. She had arched a brow in curiosity.

"Oh? Pray tell, how so?" Before Severus could enlighten Nerevar, the colorblind man of the hour finally arrived in a flare of Phoenix fire. Numbleslorus had then loudly cleared his throat and had proceeded to call the meeting to order; or tried to at any rate. In fact Nerevar was certain no one had even noticed

the magi had appeared so melodramatically.

Then Mumblenorus had given everyone a severely disapproving look, with a touch of grandfatherly disappointment to really hit them in the unmentionables, which had made nearly everyone in the room feel ashamed(6).

"Nerevar, would you be so kind as to send these creatures back to wherever you got them from?"

Nerevar considered it for a moment. A Scamp chucked a Fireball into Wumble Craris' beard in retaliation for such a suggestion.

Severus and his three associates cackled quietly as Qumble Cores panicked for a bit over his beard, his Phoenix trilling laughter, before he remembered he was a mage and conjured water onto the hairy conflagration. Now looking thoroughly bedraggled looking in his technicolor raiment, smelling of burnt hair and old man, the Cumblemore had decided he needed to make a power display to reaffirm his image as someone to be respected.

Bumbletoreus then changed the Scamps into a host of large, evil looking butterflies. Obviously the butterflies were not meant to be changed from Scamps to butterflies, and showed the multicolored painting of a man this obvious rule by dive bombing him. It took him another couple minutes to forcibly Banish the Scamps turned butterflies, and a truly terrifying amount of spellslinging to save his own toasted hide.

Surreptitiously, Severus quietly copied his memory of the event and stowed it away in a vial before burying the memory of copying the memory. It never hurt to be careful with the crazy old coot.

After the Bombardment of Beastly Butterflies incident, Severus and his three acquaintances completely ignored the plant mage, the missing limbs mage, the numbers mage, and only barely paid any attention to the rest of the assembled teachers. Instead the quartet tried to batter on each other's mental walls to

escape the deadly boredom(7). It took the tartan lioness a couple times of calling their names to recapture their attention (Nerevar was showing them a particularly inspired memory sequence (8),) but they felt no shame over ignoring the boring talk. The rainbow wannabe wonder piped up.

"And how are the new students taking to potions Severus my boy?"

The black clad man rolled his eyes at his employer, very subtly mind you, wondering if the man really had not heard the commotion the Diabolus child had caused this day. Then again it was Albus, and no one had ever claimed the man's sanity had remained intact. There was rampant speculation if he had even possessed it.

"Well I discovered that once more my classes are full of fresh dunderheads just waiting to blow themselves up. Though I must admit…it is a pleasant surprise to be able to say there are a few that are _potentially__valuable(9)_."

That got everyone's attention, well except the new trio who had no idea what this meant with Severus

Snape. Severus was almost happy over new students; Flitwhick began to hyperventilate in excitement.

"The salvageable ones are Draco Malfoy, " There was mutterings of 'No surprise there' " Ha'ri Diabolus, and oddly enough Hermione Granger."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. Ah, sometimes he could understand why the Dark Lord's favorite word was Crucio.

"The troublesome one is Diabolus. The brat likes experimenting and explosions. For example… He made a potion today, that exploded, which caused the newest Weasley to start trying to nest and sing like one of those infernal songbirds. Last time I saw the wretch was when Poppy Silenced him in the Hospital Wing."

Severus then smirked at his astonished, and not so astonished, colleagues before adding to the picture. Let them feast on this…

"So I set up Malfoy and Granger to be his minders to try and minimize his volatile nature. In doing so I seemed to have sparked the first Slytherin and Gryffindor friendship in decades as well."

Minerva looked at him with shocked pride before giving Albus a triumphant glare that said _'See? Severus__doesn't__need__you__to__'redeem'__him_.' Flitwhick passed out from the shock. Nerevar's reaction, beaming wildly at the fact her son had friends, was only topped in hilarity by Vivec's and Divayth's drawn faces and mutters of

"That demon's starting his first army already! He's recruiting, I know it!" "We're doomed Vivec. He'll have, Daedra blessed and Divines' damned, minions. We're done for!"

Albus then interrupted by clearing his throat loudly, again (where had the subservience gone?), to cut through the cacophony. "Thank you Severus my boy. Now Nerevar, if you would be so kind…?" The elf grinned, looking as mad as a certain Mad God, and started on about her own day.

"Well for the first years I sent twelve Scamps at them, again, with the aforementioned Breton boy and the Granger girl killing all but one. The one they didn't kill was actually devoured by its companions before they could kill it themselves. The rest of my class cowered and screamed for their Mommies. Again."

The tartan lioness growled a bit and made a reprimanding noise, but Nerevar rode right over her without even noticing the irate tartan mage.

"The eldest of the Initiates were utterly pathetic. They couldn't even harm the Lich I raised, not even with magic! Deplorable! In light of this, I have written them off as hopeless cannon fodder for now. However! I should be able to pound enough basic spellwork into them to ensure a survival chance of up to fifteen percent!" Truly, that was outstanding. Fodder survival rates usually didn't even get one percent! She then sighed.

"The middling Initiates are also pathetic, but I have much longer to correct their stupidity. I'll be working with the eldest, to correct the wasted years, and youngest, to give them the basic survival skills, the most to train them up to where they should be.

Thus I propose for Divayth to merge his _useless _Divinations class with mine to expedite the training process. We have an extremely large range of skills to train these spoiled Initiates in and we don't even have a year!"

Nerevar was pacing by the time she had ended her speech, knowing Divayth would help her because this kind of stuff was what the Dunmer practically lived for. The Dunmer loved showing off his spellwork, and rubbing it in just how much better a mage he was. (He just hid it under the mentoring thing, she knew him too well to fall for it.) The old man began to protest but Nerevar would have none of it.

"Be silent you fool! I will merge these classes in order to do the job I was given to me by the Prince of Twilight herself! I will teach these unworthy mortals what they'll need to avoid being slaughter like lambs before butchers."

She whipped around to pierce the old twit with eyes that seemed to glow with a blood colored shine, her hair seeming to float with the power of her righteous fury. The old mage quit while he was still uninjured, letting Nerevar win without protest.

Later Severus revealed to her his memory of the scene, and she had collapsed howling with laughter along with her two lacke ahem her two friends.

The memory revealed that Numble Woris had had a very suspicious wet patch in the lower part of his body.

It took them thirty minutes to stop laughing.

* * *

><p>OMAKE!<p>

* * *

><p>Draco Malfoy knew, as every Malfoy from the dawn of time knew, that to get what he wanted he would have to use bribery, blackmail, and all his skills at persuasion (See: manipulation) to attain what he wanted. After all, there was no way he was going to get it honestly. Honesty was for Weasleys… Which was probably why they had been called out to Duel so many families and lost all their money when someone was underhanded and clever enough to get away with it.<p>

Draco wanted Nerevar in a way most eleven year olds would not want someone for another three or four years. Frankly it was pretty disturbing, but Draco was a Malfoy and incest had been okayed centuries ago. But back to Draco. He was in love, so obviously he needed to get started on this wooing and seducing thing before Nerevar got snatched up by someone unworthy of her.

So Draco began to gather information about Nerevar (mostly by paying older children to recount their horror stories of their classes with her) in order to get to know the object of his dubious affections. He learned the elf was utterly inhuman and soulless and that he was an inbred idiot (Gryffindors who wanted extra pocket money) for wanting that elf in any way. Draco scoffed at the lower class' crudity.

Could they not see how perfect his love was? The way her eyes shined like fresh pools of blood in the springtime? The way her snow colored hair swayed with menacing elegance? The way her deadly, but supple and curvy, form was utterly entrancing? Draco saw all of this and knew he had chosen the most perfect bride to ever be chased by a Malfoy. He totally disregarded that she was several decades older or the fact she had a son his age, who also happened to be his friend.

As the days passed he began to make Nerevar memorabilia to show how devoted he was to his Goddess of War. (Yes he was already that far gone.) He crafted Nerevar plushies, sewed Nerevar pillows, carved Nerevar's name on his bed's headboard, and quilted blankets that had a full body image of Nerevar on it. It disturbed everyone around him, though Ha'ri was oblivious since he did not know _how_Draco liked his mother.

Draco got so bad that he even started composing romantic poetry, awful romantic poetry. "Oh Nerevar your hair is like snow,

Your wrath brings everyone woe,

Your eyes are like pools of blood, Your armor is clean of mud,

Your skin is like azure marble,

When I see you all I can do is marvel."

It got even worse (yes Draco _could _sink lower), for Draco managed to acquire a lyre from somewhere. He began to compose epic romantic ballads in Nerevar's honor. Eventually someone was going to snap and probably kill or geld the nutter, but Hermione was too clever for that. Instead of beating sense into Draco (like she would dearly like to do to the boy she sort of called friend) Hermione utilized all of her innate feminine cruelty to put a stop to Draco's horrific poems and songs.

She explained to Ha'ri, in explicit and mind destroying detail, how Draco felt for his mother. And what he wanted to do to his mother _precisely_. For a moment Ha'ri's face went slack with shock before a sinisterly glowing smile wreathed his face as he said,

"Thank you Hermione for telling me the threat Draco poses to my Mother's virtue." (10) "Now I need to find a certain monotoned piglet and show him _exactly _how much of a Momma's boy I am…"

Hermione was from then on regarded with the fear that was usually bestowed upon Professor Snape by her fellow classmates. And as for Draco… Let's just say he never composed another poem or song again within five square miles of Ha'ri Diabolus for fear that experience would be repeated. Or that something worse would occur.

And so Nerevar's virtue was saved, and Draco learned never to mess with a boy that might possibly have some form of an Oedipus complex.

The End…Kind of, not really.

Epilogue

"Oh Nerevar, my sweet, glorious, leather clad Moon! How I long to sing to thee praises once more! But never fear! One day I will once again compose songs and poetry to praise your magnificent self!

And on that day you will fall for me and as we begin to disrobe the scene shall fade to black and " The sounds of knuckles popping stopped the obsessed boy.

"Please do go on Malfoy about _how__you__will__disrobe__my__mother_."

"AIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

* * *

><p>(1) Purebloods turned funerals into quite the affairs. It was almost like a ball usually, though everyone wore black. Though considering how most Purebloods collected enemies like some collected stamps, the ball made more sense. Celebration of your enemy's death, dancing on their grave, and all that.<p>

(2) Madam Zabini had told her son about the man. She had stayed far away from him, and recommended to her son to do the same. She claimed that the man was deadly, and since his mother would know about deadly (being a Dark Witch dedicated to wiping out her insane comrade's monstrosities from the earth) Blaise took her words to heart.

(3) The Ravenclaw club has graciously volunteered to translate any _texturing _by one Severus Snape. Translation: "Yes, do go ahead and lie. You'll make my day because then I can use you for Potioningredients… My supply of human liver has been running low, and even your subpar flesh can be made to work…"

(4) Though Nerevar did ask later how on Nirn the Scamps had even known how to use those weapons…

(5) Translation: "Fools, the lot of them. Dunderheads to the last!"

(6) It had been pretty obvious though that Severus, Nerevar, Divayth, and Vivec did not feel one iota of shame or remorse; not one.

(7) Nerevar purposefully let each man breach her defenses once. They were all torn between being fascinated, horrified, or just plain _disturbed_.

(8) Nerevar was showing them why sometimes she advocated leaving people alive. There were some

truly inspirational ways of prolonging suffering in that mind of hers, not involving conventional torture at all. There may or may not have been (the author has been gagged by Nerevar!)

(9) Translation: "They have the potential to be truly great brewers, but I refuse to pander to anyone's ego over the gangly goggled eyed brats."

(10) Somewhere a certain Prince of Twilight died, and then revived, out of her shellshocked irony.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve: Spell Lessons, Friends, and Lectures from Hell

Author's Note: Oh yes a belated thank you to all my reviewers, y'all are the bomb and all that. I'm now trial testing ShadowedFang for the position of beta for this story. And there was someone mentioning they wanted a little more plot than humor, but my peeps I assure you this is meant to be mostly humor with a little bit of a plot the humor vaguely saunters along. Anyways more plot…

PS: Do you all like the Omakes? Or are they a bit much? Cause I got a kick out of the last one and this one. And there is a new feature, so tell me if you like it!

P.S.S: If more info is needed on Stagnant Mana, PM me and I'll expound on it!

* * *

><p>Nerevar looked to Divayth, then looked to her class of young Initiates. Here they were three days later, five days since the odd Hatting Ceremony, and her pupils were surprisingly enough still alive.<p>

Though she could attribute their continued survival to Divayth's insistence that all the children learn to maintain a Lesser Ward and two healing spells before moving onto the spells of minor fiery doom, she would never do that since he was her subordinate(1).

It seemed to have done the trick, while bolstering her younglings' flagging sense of confidence and courage. However, it had done little for their common sense or intelligence. She had had to remind that particularly annoying and whiny redheaded boy – Whiffly was it? of something frighteningly fundamental. That little bit about how barriers could stop many spells cold, but it was about as useful as sand in a desert against physical might.

Nerevar took a look at her list of ideas on what she wanted to hammer into the children, memory sparked as she did so.

* * *

><p>Flashback<p>

* * *

><p>She had finally gotten all of her Initiates to master the Flames spell, though the young ones had needed a bit of enlisted help from the clever little lion cub and that strange hatchling to explain to their age mates what Nerevar was trying to get them to do. Most of the time her explanations flew right over their little heads, but that actually <em>hadn't<em>been the true issue.

It turned out most of them, the younger Initiates to be precise, had a rather bad case of Stagnant Mana.

The boy child Severus said was the most disastrous brewer to ever step into the castle had the worst case of the lot.

Though Nerevar was usually not someone to heed morals, she did draw some lines. And sick children were not to be treated as she had been treating them, never mind no one ever knew they were sick. So she had done the only thing she could. Nerevar formally apologized to her younger students for insulting sick children.

She deeply shocked her students and earned some affection in the process. After all, when had an adult ever humbled themselves in public to apologize to children? Soon after her apology, Nerevar began the renewing treatment along with her fellow mage Divayth.

The treatment was consisted of pumping large amounts of mana into the afflicted patient and forcing it through the clogged system before pulling the, now contaminated, back into the healer for 'cleaning' and then pumping it back into the patient. The treatment 'cleaned' the Stagnant Mana and restarted the circulation of the child's own innate mana.

Developing Stagnant Mana was very easy for young mages and the older and/or lazier mages since there was really only one way to prevent Stagnant Mana. The mage in question had to use magic every day until the mana automatically retained circulation even while not in constant use. Older magi tended to have servants do so much of the petty work that they eventually quit using their magic day to day, which then led to the slow invasion of SM. Young magi contracted it the same way as magi of any age, but usually it was because they hadn't been allowed to utilize their magic.

Apparently, after some inquiries with Severus, magi here _maybe _used magic on a yearly basis(something called "Accidental Magic") until they had got here to the Warty Hog. Then when they left the Warty Hog in the summer they _weren't __supposed __to __use __magick __at __all_! The utter stupidity of it still boggled her mind. It was no wonder they had so many weaklings after that revelation, and it helped ease her contempt of the magical weakness within all the Initiates.

She would correct this gross mistake as soon as she figured out who was responsible… But that was for the future.

The treatments had taken about half an hour(mana could be circulated extremely quickly if the healer was powerful enough), since Nerevar was nearly impossible to tire, but the students learned something. While Nerevar had apologized, she had not changed a bit. Her teaching methods were exactly the same too. In fact, they might even have been considered even worse since the students no longer had an excuse Nerevar would accept.

After Nerevar had fixed the student's Stagnant Mana she had handed them off to Divayth. She left him with the explicit orders to teach them how to heal themselves and shield the working healers. It was a basic strategy of war and battle, so it was extremely practical to learn it when they had a Prophecy hanging over them.

A draconian cry by her shoulder drew her attention back from the memories, and away from the nervous Initiates – she was pretty sure Divayth had called them Third Years – and she tapped Damus on the snout for breaking her chain of thought.

Nerevar then noticed a hand was waving in the air madly, and turned her attention to the eager boy from the Yellow Horde. "Yes…?" He stopped waving his hand.

"Edward Cull , wait wrong place, I'm Cedric Diggory, Nerevar. What is that on your shoulder?" All the students leaned in involuntarily, extremely eager to learn what the vaguely humanoid and miniature dragon like creature was. Nerevar blinked lazily at them, bemused.

"Is that all? Well this is Damus, my Homunculus. He will also serve my son, but as the dominant personality I am his primary Partner. And no, I will not be teaching you how to make one because your Hatmaster isn't paying me enough."

There was a unanimous groan of disappointment before a minion of the Blue Horde displayed a burst of intelligence. "Could we pay you? Or ask our parents to pay you to teach the stuff the Headmaster won't pay you for?" Nerevar smirked at the girl before winking and returning to her lecture about throwing weapons.(Something that would later inspire that girl to set _things _into motion.)

* * *

><p>Returning to the lesson at hand, Nerevar looked at how Ha'ri's fellow Initiates were faring. She was currently teaching them what she called the Skyrim curriculum. The Nord's magi were a very practical bunch, crafting a host of essential spells just for budding Initiates, so their curriculum provided great beginners material. Another glance at the list once more reminded her of what she planned to teach the Initiates.<p>

Nerevar was going to be pounding inasmuch as she could in as little time as possible since she planned on teaching Repel Lesser Undead, Lesser Ward, Healing, Healing Hands, Courage, Clairvoyance, Calm, Sparks, Frostbite, Reanimate Corpse, Raise Zombie, Conjure Flame Atronach.

Not necessarily in that order of course. And she had to supplement many more spells since Skyrim magi

eschewed the more 'strange' spells, since the non magical Nords barely tolerated their 'witchcraft' as it was.

So she had to add Strong Feather, Strong Levitate, Slowfall, Vivec's Kiss, Waterwalking, Protect Other, Magicka Drain, Void Gazer, Minor Dispel, Minor Life Detection, Remote Manipulation, Force Bolt, Acidic Field, Energy Leech, Balyna's Antidote, Cure Disease, Wizard's Fire, Dragon Combat, Blind, Death Howl, and finally Righteousness.

The youngest (Ha'ri's set) would master thirty seven spells, dagger play, maces, shortswords, war axes, dual wielding, basic enchanting, basic blacksmithing, and they would also be educated on all the dangerous creatures both worlds could throw at them by the end of this year. Needless to say, Nerevar planned for her minions to be efficient minions. Even with the Hatmaster's idiocy, Nerevar would craft herself an army worthy of it's name.

Or they, not her since she was quite immortal, would die trying.

Divayth and Vivec had been shocked by her ambitious plans...But they also knew that Nerevar had spent several millions of septims on her training in all things she could possibly train in, and had finished mastering everything in a year. While none of the Dunmer, and half Chimer, expected that from any of their students (except the eldest since all they had was a year) they knew it was quite possible with Nerevar at the helm.

Whether or not anyone could live up to Nerevar's standards though was something they weren't too sure of.

* * *

><p>Hermione Granger was having a blast. Literally, since another Scamp was just sent flying by her Wizard's Fire, a rainbow and Technicolor ball of flames that left glitter trails in it's wake. Hermione glanced to Nerevar to judge the teacher's reaction and, to her immense pleasure, Nerevar's claret eyes sparkled as she grinned and sent a thumbs up Hermione's way.<p>

To be honest Hermione had at first been downright terrified of the Dunmer (Nerevar had enlightened the ever curious girl to the correct name of her race) and had dreaded her upcoming year with the Dunmer. But then a Slytherin, the son of Nerevar herself, had approached her with an easy smile and a compliment.

"I think you're the first person to grasp my Mom's attention at this school. That means you've got to be an Aedra damned whiz of a prodigy."

Hermione had blushed violently before stuttering out a humble decline, muttering Nerevar surely despised her now. Ha'ri, as he had told her to call him, had laughed lightly before saying,

"We'll see about that now, won't we? Anyways Hermione, want to come back to the Common Room with me? I saw that you were able to do that feather float exercise in the mini man's class without using the pointy sticks they gave us. Can you show me how to do it?"

Ha'ri's face had looked sincerely ernest; much like a puppy hoping you would play with it. "Mother hasn't shown me how yet, or she forgot to do it within the timeframe, and I'd be willing to help you out too. Of course, only if you wish my lady." He had added in the last with a sly wink, reminding Hermione of his House's mascot.

Hermione had blushed so fiercely she believed she must have invented a new shade of red before she had whispered in the deserted classroom, everyone else having already left. "Are you suggesting you want to be friends with me Ha'ri?"

A confused look had crossed his green eyes (_why__were__they__not__red__like__his__mother's__and his godfathers'? _she silently wondered) before he had said "Yes? Wasn't I clear before?" She had then smiled at her new friend before looping her arm around his like a lady going out to town with her gentleman, something Ha'ri had insisted on it due to his sense of propriety(2), and remarked a reassurance quickly. "Just checking!"

They had then made their way to the Slytherin portion of the Dungeons, Ha'ri showing no care that she would now know where their entry was or the current password.

"Snakes make baked cakes under lank and dank lakes."

The portion of the stone wall he had addressed melted away to reveal the Common Room, and Hermione had giggled at the strangle password before letting Ha'ri escort her into the Snake's Nest.

Ha'ri then had led her to the black leather couches very quickly, barely allowing her a chance to take in the darkly elegant décor or the surprised and stunned hostility at a Lion barging into the Nest and the Hatchery(3). Hermione could hear the hissing whispering, but Ha'ri had a way of keeping her attention on him instead of the disdainful whispers. Yet despite their noise the Slytherins never did act against her during her stay with Ha'ri, and never whispered about her after her first day in the Nest. Not even when she discussed mundane things, like guns, with Ha'ri(4).

She thought Ha'ri might have done something (or perhaps Professor Snape since he seemed to like the elder Dunmeri) something probably quite violent and vicious. But Hermione was surprised to learn, to her private guilt, that after all these years of malicious whispering and taunting she did not care much what Ha'ri had done. Not even her innate sense of justice was outraged; all she felt was a feeling of satisfaction that her friend had stood up for her.

Idly she wondered if it was Nerevar's teachings finally influencing her. Especially that piece of advice she had overheard her tell a particularly overprotective Hufflepuff.

"Your primary concerns are to be about your wellbeing and the wellbeing of those you care for. It's all well and good to be chivalrous and valiant, commendable even. But you can't help anybody or anything if you can't help yourself and those you care for first.

If you can't take care of yourself, but place yourself in harm's way anyways out of some misplaced sense of heroism, all you are doing is making a burden of yourself for someone one else to carry and rescue. And think about this; what if you die? How will the person you 'saved' feel then? Horrible, correct?

That person will always carry your death with them, an eternal torment and burden. That person will _suffer _because of you, and unless you find it amusing to watch people suffer pointlessly then you should get why you're to act sensibly. For their sake, if you won't take care for your own, _that_is why you are

to not throw yourself into Oblivion unless you are positive you can get yourself back out in relatively one piece."

In the end, she had made the choice to enter this hidden world. And no one else could be held accountable for her choices, except herself. The next day during Potions, or Alchemy as Ha'ri demanded it be called, Professor Snape had stopped her from sitting by Lavender Brown.

"Miss Granger, I'm afraid you may no longer sit by Miss Brown from today onwards. You will instead be in the trio consisting of Misters Diabolus and Malfoy and yourself. Hopefully you will be able to mitigate some of Diabolus'... _creativity._" _(4)_. Her new seating was with Malfoy on the left, Ha'ri in the middle, and her on the right.

When Malfoy had made no move to introduce himself to her Ha'ri had lightly zapped him, making Malfoy yelp, before whispering something furiously to him. Whatever Ha'ri had said must have had some sort effect for Malfoy to walk over to her and offer his hand as he drawled,

"Draco Malfoy. Charmed to meet you." Hermione had stood up from her stool, to be polite, before gripping his hand firmly and shaking it. What had surprised her was that Malfoy aborted the handshake and instead tucked himself into a respectful bow to lightly kiss her hand. It was something Not Done, for a pureblood like a Malfoy to give the traditional pureblood respectful greeting to a muggleborn. No one who knew what it meant knew what to make of Malfoy's blatant flouting of the unstated status quo.

"I'm Hermione Granger, and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance Malfoy." Surprising her further, as well as the entire class, he had pulled up from his bow with an easy smirk before saying,

"Call me Draco, after all we're both on a first name basis with Ha'ri. It will get awkward quickly if we're constantly using each other's surnames when we're addressing Ha'ri informally."

Again, Draco had gone against the unspoken. Allowing her to publically use his personal name instead of his family name was something that signalled he was unlikely to ever break ties with her as well as warning she was now close to him. Purebloods, like the Blacks, had been noted for killing over slights such as improperly assuming to use their personal name. Not something to be taken lightly, or to refuse without _very _good reason.

She had given him a tight smile. He was the son of a notorious Pureblood fanatic, who was pinned in her books as a highly ranked Death Eater that had gotten away with the claim of being Imperious-ed. There was also the whole Nature versus Nurture debate to consider, and Hermione weighed her options.

She wordlessly nodded assent. Surprisingly she found that while Draco was spoiled beyond belief(5) and favored abusing his humanoid trolls quite often, he _was _someone she could get along with as long as Ha'ri reminded him to mind his manners. While at first he had been snide and she snappish, they both soon found that working feverishly with each other to stave off Ha'ri's brewing insanity quickly built a very strong and formidable friendship. Even if they snapped and nipped at each other verbally whenever they weren't trying to keep Ha'ri from killing them in Potions.

They even managed to engage in heated debates, instead of arguments, and started to exchange culture somewhat. All in all, they were managing to move past their various grudges and prejudices with remarkable success for children. The odd duo also managed to forget, with Ha'ri's continued influence over his Housemates, that they were supposed to loathe each other because of House and blood differences.

However, no friendship is without its trials and tribulations. For example: Nerevar had attempted to drop Vivec's floating asteroid on him and his city when he had suggested that she allow motherhood to curb her true chaotic nature. And this trio of friends were due for their first.

The first real trial came on a suddenly free afternoon on their fifth day, after an incident had demanded most of the faculty to work to solve the issue. Supposedly the Whomping Willow had had sugar dumped into it's soil somehow and was now attempting to uproot itself to mimic it's mobile Narnian idols.

Hermione had, of course, known of the tales of the ancient feud between Gryffindor and Slytherin but she had thought it had been blown out of proportion by rumors and gossip. Hermione later wished she had been right about the nature of the, very real and very violent, feud.

Hermione had wanted to show off the cozy comfort of her House that she took pride in, to impress her friends with her House's unique charm as theirs had done to her. So Hermione lead her friends to the Gryffindor Tower and to the portrait of the Pink Lady(6). She had even let them know the current password to repay their display of trust earlier, when Draco had blithely stated their password to the Nest without a wit of concern yesterday.

"The pig Sir Giggles sure could do some wiggles." The Prefect had changed it this morning in an attempt to help Neville with his memory lapses.

No one had blinked an eye when she had climbed through the portrait hole, but when her fellow Lions spotted her two Slytherin cohorts the older Lions had roared in outrage and had trained their wands on them(7). Ron Weasley had taken point as the Pride's voice and had roared what everyone was thinking while the rest screamed obscenities; well the sound was more like a banshee being strangled but he did try, in his bigoted righteousness,

"Hermione! How could you let some Slimy Slytherins into our Tower?!"

Hermione was outraged by her House's reactions. Their jeering and crudity left her blushing in humiliated rage and wrath had her a tremble with her savage indignation. How _dare _they! The sheer audacity of her House, the House supposedly full of people brave and valiant and civilized! How could they debase themselves and sully everything Gryffindor was supposed to represent when she wished to show outsiders how great they could be!

Hermione drew in a deep breath, her face darkening with terrifying wrath, before she started ranting at a decibel so loud and punishing Molly Weasley would have been jealous. "Ronald Bilius Weasley!"

Hermione had heard Percy berate him with his full name earlier that day when he had muttered disrespectful things about Professor Snape, and it was coming in handy.

"How DARE you bring shame and disgrace to our House and our Founder with your churlish actions! We are Gryffindors! We have inherited the House of Bravery, the House of Valor, the House of Justness, the House of Honor, and the House of Knights! Our predecessors, _your __ancestors_, prided themselves on their honorable and just actions! _And __you __have __just __sullied __over __a thousand __years __of __men __and women __with __your __actions __today __against __my __guests!_"

Hermione's eyes were blazing and alight with agitated mana, little lightning bolts rolling off her skin and ominous shadows gathering as Hermione unconsciously reached for a denizen of Oblivion as her subconscious remembered Nerevar pulling Scamps from a purple black void. The only reason there wasn't any Daedra appearing in response to her rage was that Hermione didn't know how to call them through the dimensions. And in the state she was in her fellows were lucky she didn't know how. It was unlikely she would have had enough control to keep her Daedra from attacking.

While Hermione was raging, Ha'ri was grinning along with Draco as they both saw the potential for destruction that Nerevar had seen.

"And while I might not know your mother personally Ronald, I'm sure Mrs. Weasley would have been _utterly __mortified_by your actions towards the _guests_of House Gryffindor!"

She could hear the infamous Trickster Twins giggling in unison, confirming her hunch that Mrs. Weasley's rage would have been utterly biblical in its proportions. Hermione only allowed herself a moment of satisfaction at her hunch paying off. After Ron had scurried into a corner to hyperventilate in semi privacy in imitation of his pet rat, she whirled upon the upperclassmen with all the spartan ferocity that had put her in Gryffindor.

"And you lot! You're supposed to be wiser than four year olds with a petty grudge! I invited my _friends _to my House in order to show them how _great _Gryffindor can be, even with more than our fair share of hard headed imbeciles! And what do you do? You seek to attack my guests who I clearly let in _without duress_!"

Her breast heaving under her considerable emotions and her verbal assault, Hermione drew in a breath in what was obviously supposed to be a calming gesture that did not seem to do her much good. "I hope you feel some sort of satisfaction or vindication as to how you've tarnished our good name and reputation..."

Hermione's voice dropped a few chords into a menacing voice that seemed right at home amongst the unnatural shadows, crackling lightning, and glowing eyes as she delivered her promise.

"Because I'm making sure that Nerevar and Professors Divayth, Vivec, and Snape know how you behave with guests and allies! Come on Ha'ri, Draco! We're leaving!" The two grinning boys followed behind the wrathful girl, as Hermione stormed onwards towards Nerevar's chambers. Ha'ri paused to only to draw his finger across his throat in front of the pale Lions before hustling after Hermione to watch the fallout.

Tomorrow and many days after that, the Lion Pride would suffer under the four professors Hermione had threatened them with(8). Professor McGonagall was utterly humiliated because she had been forced to formally apologize to the two Hatchlings and a smirking Severus. She joined in on the effort to make sure the elder Lions knew nothing but misery as soon as she managed a graceful retreat from the smug Slytherin Head of House.

Hermione was henceforth referred to as the Chimera after the incident, when the rest of Hogwarts learned what happened, and called the Lion's suffering The Taming of the Lions.

* * *

><p>Author's note: This is to fix all the little inserts and make it all nice and tidy! Enjoy!<p>

* * *

><p>(1)The fact that Divayth was her friend slash slave did not factor into calculations when it came to her pay grade. She was being paid overtime for putting in the extra hours of making the eldest somewhat capable. Nerevar took money as a very serious matter. She had been made Guildmaster of the Thieves' Guild for a reason. One simply did not touch Nerevar's money.<p>

(2) Vivec's small influence. That and the fact when Ha'ri had first attempted this with his mother Nerevar had cooed her appreciation over her little gentleman, thus cementing for Ha'ri that manners towards females were a Must.

(3) The elder Slytherins' referred to the First Year dorms as the Hatchery for the Snakelings. Little did they know Salazar Slytherin had come up with the term and had passed it down through the generations of students. That and the man, while being excellent in magic, swordsmanship, and other manly wizardly things was a cook the Gods would wage wars over. And they did. But that's a tale for another time.

(4) Translation: "His insane adoration of explosions that threatens to match a recent Dark Lord's infatuation with the word Crucio."

(5) Ha'ri found guns a little too fascinating for her tastes, grilling her for all her knowledge on the subject before going to hunt down more information. What Ha'ri planned to do with the formula for gunpowder and schematics for building a Colt, Hermione had no clue and she felt her sanity was far safer that way.

(6) A solid gold rattle? Honestly? HONESTLY?!

(7) She believed it to be incredibly rude to label the portrait as the Fat Lady. After all, the lady in question, while voluptuous, had a perfectly good set of ears as Hermione knew. Hermione also knew that the lady sometimes pretended she was 'away' when people that had insulted her needed to get inside. Such as when the Twins had memorably remarked "It's all over when the Fat Lady sings!" after seeing her vocal performance. Hermione wondered how the others hadn't caught on, but these were Gryffindors.

(8) Something Nerevar made them regret later when Ha'ri reported their reflexive reaction was to reach for a pointy stick. Not to forget their sheer inattention as to who was coming into their Den.

(9) Snape had smiled beatifically when Hermione had, respectfully, raged her outrage to him. Hermione later found that smile popping up in her nightmares alongside the failed exams. Professor Snape was handing back those failed exams. What Hermione would never know was that, alongside the obvious sadistic pleasure he took from this situation, she had reminded Snape of a young and outraged Lily Evans when someone had finally made her patience snap.

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><p>OMAKE: To Walk For A Day In A Doomed Boy's Shoes!<p>

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><p>Ronald Billius Weasley was now living in a constant state of misery and fear. Fear of retribution from Fred and George(1) for besmirching the name of their House. There were numerous other things he lived in fear of, such as spiders, but the worst of them all was the fear of a Howler from one Molly Weasley.<p>

He no longer needed to fear Percy, for Percy had already punished him as far as Percy was concerned. Percy, for all his starched and ironed in propriety, had struck first. Percy, using and possibly abusing his Prefect powers, had deducted twenty five points from Gryffindor. Which had put Gryffindor in negative twelve points after Snape took his points. Then the Prefect had assigned Ron with two months of detention with Madam Pomfrey to, hopefully, learn some tolerance and forbearance.

After Percy had repeatedly sucker punched his littlest brother, he proceeded to lecture Ron for five hours unceasingly about everything from his grades to his conduct to his eating habits. Percy also explained to his miserable sibling why he was so furious; the Weasley's most cherished item aside from their family was their honor, and since they had no wealth it was paramount to keep it untarnished.

In a bout of cleverness Percy had also cast spells in the beginning to force Ron to focus and not zone out, alongside some spells to keep him from falling asleep or forgetting those five hours of utter Hell. Because of this, Ron's current nightmares no longer featured spiders; Percy was the leading act.

While Ron knew the Twins were going to make him into a truly spectacular example, along with the other guilty members of the Pride, he did not know if Hermione had followed through with her implied threat of going to his mother with this matter. So Ron fearfully trudged down to breakfast two days after the incident which Hogwarts was already calling The Taming of the Lions(2).

He picked at his food, since his constant dread was _actually __affecting __his __appetite_, watching intently for his half dead family owl to swoop in with the rest of the mailing flock. And lo and behold the flock of owls appeared, burdened down by the goodies and letters from the children's families.

But Ron's desperate eyes spotted a flaming red letter, carried by a dive bombing and suicidal bird. The aforementioned bird crashed into the enormous plate of bacon looking ready to finally call it quits and go on to the Great Nest in the Sky, clutching the ominous letter tightly in its twitching talons. Ron gingerly detached the poor owl's stubborn talons from the damning letter, preparing himself for the upcoming ordeal. As he made to open it, the Great Hall was hushed with a gesture from Nerevar(3).

"**RONALD ****BILLIUS ****WEASLEY! ****How ****dare ****you bring ****shame ****to our ****family's ****House ****and to the Weasley ****name! ****Your ****Father ****and I-!**" And so the harpy like screeching of Molly Weasley continued for about five more minutes before flapping over to the Slytherin table, where a much softer and gentler Molly Weasley humbly apologized to Ha'ri and Draco before turning to Hermione(4) and apologizing to her as well.

The letter then promptly tore itself into minuscule bits, and then the bits caught fire and burned until only flakes of ash remained. And for the second or third time, but who's counting? time this year, Ron Weasley fainted.

* * *

><p>(1) Also reported to have answered to Gred and Forge. There is currently a fifty septim(see: shiny, pure gold coins) reward for a tried and proven method for telling apart the Twins so they would finally stop with the stupid "Just kidding I'm...!" joke. It is also rumored if someone could find a way, that Merlin himself would bow before them and give them the keys to Avalon.<p>

But this is only rumor. There is no need to pay any attention to this rumor for it definitely has no truth in it. Move along.

(2) A Muggleborn Ravenclaw had suggested it after the infamous The Taming of the Shrew, and it had caught on very quickly. The Slytherins who had gotten the reference made sure to let the clueless in on the joke, thus insuring the humiliating name would stick.

(3) Actually she had casted a Silence spell, one that actually silenced people instead of making them incapable of casting a spell. She had no intentions of teaching either spell to anyone except her son, and possibly any favorites she might pick up along the way.

(4) Hermione was currently shunning her Housemates, much to the amusement of the staff except Dumbledore. Dumbledore had wanted to Crucio the idiot children for possibly ruining his chance of attaining one of the finest genius children in generations for the Light.

He had instead rooted in his vast closet for his most horrifyingly colored and patterned robes, then had stepped in to teach Transfiguration "'_in __order __to __allow __poor Minerva __some __time __to __recover __from __nearly __strangling __her __House._" In actuality these robes had been enchanted to make whomever looked at it see what they considered hellishly horrifying. This was how Dumbledore used his insanity to punish the children who he couldn't Crucio.

For example: Ron Weasley saw Dumbledore wearing a robe made entirely of _moving, __living, __chittering __spiders __that __tried __to __devour __his __soul."_


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen: Wine, Plotting, and Memories

A/N: I really shouldn't be typing this. Really, I shouldn't. My school is going crazy with essays and tests, my tennis season has started, debate is demanding tournament participation, and life is conspiring to

keep me firmly away from my pen and paper! And my poor beta, Fang, must be about ready to tear my hair out in frustration! (Sin turns to a fuming Fang and bows) So sorry Fang!

But thanks everyone, I love you for being so patient.

EDIT: Now that I finished cleaning I don't have an excuse to put off the next chapter… So it'll be out soonish I guess.

LOOK AT THE POLL.

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><p>Lucius chuckled sinisterly to himself as he took a sip of fine red wine in his office, beside the warm fireplace.(1) Lord Voldemort would have been pleased with his plan. If Lucius had actually ever wanted to please that maniac again! He huffed indignantly. Torturing one's Inner Circle did not build bridges; it cast an Avada at those bridges. But never mind that. Now that Voldemort was out of his life, Lucius had a new despicable foe; Ha'ri Diabolus.<p>

Whatever the youth had been would have to be disregarded. He had masterfully humiliated Lucius in front of all of Wizarding Britain. Usually Lucius would use the bigoted(2) and unfair laws he had helped to pass to his advantage, since the slate gray elfin lad was certainly not human.

In the privacy of his own home, behold many powerful and ancient wards, complete with freshly cast anti spying spells, Lucius could admit to the painfully obvious. The Minister of Magic was a completely incompetent fool. An incompetent fool with a serious debts, who continually made himself new debts, and did not have the coin to pay his debts. Without Lucius, the goblins would have had Fudge's head by now.

Having The Minister of Magic in his pocket was quite useful.

However Lucius had found, to his dismay, that since there was no legal precedent for humanoid magic and sword wielding Elves… The Ministry was going to play it safe until they were determined too strong to pick on or easy prey. So, essentially, the quartet were to be treated as Ambassadors from another Wizarding culture. He had seethed over that unusual display of self preservation for days.

With his usual underhanded Slytherin ways unavailable, Lucius began to plot, plan and prepare as only Slytherins can(3). Lucius plotted day in and day out with his trusty Diction Quill and his handy bottles of alcohol. Before Day One was out he didn't care one wit that Narcissa would be going battier than Severus on a bad day over his behavior.

Of course, Lucius had drank enough before Day One was over that he could have been set on fire and held under a enraged Voldemort's Crucio without feeling a thing, while giggling hysterically at his Dark Lord.(4)

Lucius went through many plans before he could finally settle on one. He fantasized about it for many hours, but he dismissed the plan to strangle the child until he felt better. The drunken pureblood ended up discarding many more violently appealing plans (due to the lack of subtlety,) before he remembered that Draco was disturbingly infatuated with the spawn's mother. Could he possibly…? Yes he could!

Lucius then unsteadily jumped up from his chair in his eureka moment with a deranged smile on his face. Draco wanted a bride did he? Lucius indulged in a menacing and Voldemort-esque chuckle.

Oh, Draco would get his bride, with Lucius' help, and Lucius would "generously" offer to take the spawn off their hands… _Permanently_.

With another sip of wine(or brandy, or scotch, he really had no idea what he was drinking by Day Whatever,) Lucius finally passed out cold from the amount of various alcoholic beverages and lack of sleep.

Tomorrow, after drowning himself in restorative potions, he would make an inspection at Hogwarts.

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><p>Albus Dumbledore puckered his lips in consternation while sucking on a lemon drop. The lemon drop was imbued with a light lacing of calming potion, and Albus certainly needed some calm right now. He stared at the eagle owl in front of him.<p>

Maybe if he was still enough, his robes, enchanted to be funhouse mirrors in cloth form, would bamboozle the vain looking bird. The bird glared at the Headmaster for his impudence.

It was all too obvious whose bird it was once Albus had glanced at the identifying anklet's crest. And there is only one reason the man would owl the too politically adept Headmaster. Lucius Malfoy wanted to do a surprise inspection of the school. Albus' twinkle vanished as he contemplated the reasons the blond man could want to visit.

Honestly, Albus thought, the man was like an annoying snake you couldn't crush because your boots were not strong enough to prevent the serpent from injecting its venom as its dying act of spite. If only Lucius wasn't such a public figure… Alas, but a disappearance from someone so vocal would not be dismissed out of hand even with his influence. Albus had to figure out what hairbrained scheme the man had concocted now, and why he had concocted it in the first place.

First on the list of possible reasons was that Draco Malfoy was just starting out. Lucius had no other heirs, and Lucius and Narcissa were rumored to hate each other enough that another child was less likely than Voldemort deciding he wanted to marry a muggle. Albus the thought about it for a moment, slowly sliding around pieces of information into different patterns like a man trying to find the basic shape of a three dimensional puzzle whose shape he had never seen.

Unable to see why Lucius would make excuses to justify visiting his son so soon, without any of the traditional Hogwartian disasters to have befallen him yet, he dropped Draco from the picture. Next, Albus tried to see if his new professors were the reason. The three were strange, true, but they were easily the most competent people he had ever managed to hire in those posts. There wasn't really anything to complain about, even if Nerevar was possibly training up a personal army using the school as a secret recruitment base(5).

Plus, Lucius would not give a damn even if Albus hired someone like that Lockheart fraud. So Albus put that reason away as well. Though he did keep the Lockheart idea on the side, as a backup plan negative Z in case the curse managed to get to Nerevar.

Perhaps a plan to revive Voldemort? Lucius had been a part of the notorious Inner Circle after all. Albus mulled over the idea of a revival scheme, remembering Severus' tales of rampant torture even within the Circle and considering Lucius' personality. Voldemort was already on the clock (Exhibit A: the Gringotts fiasco) but Lucius was not acting like Voldemort was back. He was not displaying either the ever present fear of somehow displeasing his genocidal maniac of a Lord, or the self assured smugness that said Lucius was aware of something that could possibly screw Albus over.

With an idle flick of his thoughts Albus dismissed that thought as well. Slowly he cast about for another reason, because Lucius never came back to Hogwarts without one. Then he remembered the fact Nerevar's son had probably become Lucius' newest and most hated foe. Albus smiled a spidery smile. How convenient….

Now with a counterplan, he would let Lucius test the child with the messy Potter hair and Evans green eyes for him.

* * *

><p>Nerevar sighed as she stared into nothing. Today was one of those days she guessed. A day of reflection, a day of trying to remember who she had been before Morrowind. She rarely turned her gaze backwards. Nerevar simply did not have much to look back at, before Morrowind that is.<p>

A nameless being had awoken in a dark area, unable to understand the sounds the thing before her was making. All she had caught was "Nerevar." She had assumed it was her name. The thing before her was quickly left behind as another, different thing came to her and took her up into brightness.

More sounds had been issued at her, all meaningless to her. And then she had gazed into the shining substance they walked over and had seen something. Stopping, without heed of the chittering being, she had gazed into the shining substance and the images within. Trapped within the substance was a copy of the being beside her, and a being somewhat similar to the first one she had seen. There had been some differences though. The second being in the substance had shining colorless hair, gray blue skin, and _redredred _eyes.

Oh.

Once she had returned the being's unfaltering crimson stare, Nerevar had remembered. She was a Dunmer. The Imperial before her shouted impatiently. She could now understand him. What was her name? Nerevar? She kept looking into the water for answers, but she never remembered anything more after that initial revelation.

Once more she turned inwards, looking into the empty darkness within herself where no memory lived. She gazed into the void, addressing her questions to it, expecting no answers despite her persistence.

"Who am I?"

"What is my name?"

"Who was I?"

"Why can't I remember anything from before that day?"

Most of the time she left with nothing to show for her attempt, except horrendous pain. But sometimes, when she was feeling desperate enough to press it, she could almost recall things. Never true memories, more like impressions, but it was better than nothingness and agony.

Fragments of a life long gone would echo within the void, hints of voices crying out to her, and sometimes she could hear a fading echo of her own cries. Nerevar could remember an arena, sand on the floor long turned red with blood, the screaming of foes and allies and audience alike, and dealing death out like gifts of septims. There was a shining bay with far too many ghosts, a spire with howling Daedra, and finally something about a missing relative.

The fragment of the arena felt the oldest, and Nerevar was fond of it because it was the most complete of the collection. It was the closest to being a true recollection, and had the most details. Perhaps its wholeness meant it was the most important one, but Nerevar did not know. And sometimes on very, very good days she finds in her arena that she misses her precious weapon and wonders why it is in the White Gold Tower and not at her side. But for that extra bit of detail, Nerevar usually pays with tortuous pain and blackouts.

Today is not one of those days, Nerevar finds. All she finds in her ruminations is pain from trying to remember so hard. Her thoughts drift away from the old unhealing gouge in her mind and she scowls. Blue gray skin tugs into harshly frightening lines.

On top of having been reborn without a name or memory, Nerevar now found herself in the firmly unenviable position of being as immortal as the Aedra and Daedra. Nothing could kill her due to her power, and no one else was going to live as long as she was either. Even Vivec and Divayth would leave her someday, and neither Aedra nor Daedra could bring back someone perfectly. Nirn and all her peoples had learned that lesson harshly. Needless to say, immortality was a bitter poison to swallow.

"Akatosh and Azura. I'm going to live long enough to see Ha'ri's bones turn to dust and his great great great grandchildren's great great grandchildren die of old age. And that's allowing for the fact that whatever robbed me of my memories doesn't happen again." She muttered to herself in the empty classroom, standing within a pool of moonlight pouring in from one of the windows.

Nerevar violently whirled away from the moon and her thoughts. There were many bottles of alcohol calling her name. It would be rude not to answer.

* * *

><p>(1) All wizarding offices had fireplaces. Kind of like how all mundane offices had secretaries and phones.<p>

(2) Of course Lucius knew they were bigoted! He was the bigot who planned them out to his advantage!

(3) All of Slytherin labored under this misconception, that they were the only ones who could truly plan out something fiendishly clever. It amused everyone they were so naive.

(4) Severus Snape has volunteered some information in light of Lucius' actions. The reason Lucius usually acted brain dead and so melodramatic on his missions for Voldemort was that he usually had gotten himself as drunk as possible beforehand. In fact, Severus has said he can count on two hands he's ever seen Lucius completely sober since he was old enough to buy his own alcohol. It makes one wonder what he's like when _not _under the influence.

(5) Albus knew every rumor that the rumor mill ran. All of them, even the stupid, preposterous ones. And this was a _very _widely believed rumor. Many students were even whispering about how they would join the army after Hogwarts, because Nerevar was teaching them how to be powerful and many, many other things. Whether or not it was true though, not even Albus could tell.


	14. Coming Soon To A Computer Near You!

Yo! Sin here!

HAPPY DAYS! THE RESULTS ARE IN AND THE WINNER IS...

**1. Graphic probably, long, somewhat less humor(tiny amount, might be darker), more ES invading HP, technical discourse in ES&HP differences, somewhat more controlled chaos, plotting, etc. etc.**

Also, the story has been highly edited! I recommend reviewing it, and I'm currently working on the next chapter now. Also, take a peak at the new poll!

THANKS FOR BEING COMPLETELY AWESOME READERS AND REVIEWERS, YOU ALL GET A SHINY GOLD STAR!

Sin out!


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